


Spellbound

by HeatedHeadwear (SplickedyHat)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/F, F/M, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Full Cast - Freeform, Gen, M/M, Magic Battles, Magical Shenanigans, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Unnecessary Greek, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-09 17:46:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 63,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4358468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SplickedyHat/pseuds/HeatedHeadwear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four humans enter the troll city of Allernia and promptly find themselves in more trouble than they've ever dealt with before; namely, twelve trolls who were trying to cast a spell and would rather not have been interrupted, thank you very fucking much.  Also featuring: mysterious tattoos, magic of all sorts, made-up languages, renegade demons, bullshit magical technology, bullshit technological magic, one massive supernatural fight scene, and minor relationship drama!  This story has it all!  All of that stuff, not literally everything.  I'm not a miracle worker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which an Accidental Theft Occurs, Cultures Clash, and Vengeance is Promised

**Author's Note:**

> Indulging my love for "In Which" chapter titles here. Gotta be me!!  
> I wrote this as a NaNoWriMo last year and have been writing more and editing and polishing ever since then. There will be some troll exposition rehashing, as it was kind of meant to be something a non-Homestuck might be able to limp through, but I hope it's well-rephrased enough that no one gets bored.  
> By this point I've been looking at this thing long enough that all of its flaws seem painfully obvious to me and the whole thing just feels mediocre, but I did promise myself I'd finish and hopefully you people reading it with fresh eyes will find some entertainment in it.  
> I think the one thing I truly regret about having less motivation for Homestuck art these days is not feeling up to doing fic illustrations...I feel like this one really could've benefitted from some. AH WELL.  
> To read the posts from the request night that started it all, go here: http://toastyhat.tumblr.com/tagged/spellbound+probably/chrono  
> Some facts in there are by now inaccurate, but there's still a lot of fun extra info that won't turn up in the story proper!

“Well, here we are!”

“Yeah.”

“It certainly is…loud.”

“Troll society tends towards loud, in my experience.  What do you three want to do first?”

“Run around in places we’re not supposed to go!”

“…Apart from that.”

“There _is_ no ‘apart from that’!”

“I want to eat the weird food!”

“I like his idea better.”

“Hush, you!”

“No, come on, we just ate and anyway the rest of us would probably just puke lookin’ at the stuff these horned weirdos eat.  Let’s trespass on private property, it’ll be fun as fuck.”

“...Oh, _alright_.  But you can’t keep me from the weird food forever!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I could be amenable to these plans so long as you’re all aware of the possible consequences if we, say...break something important.  Troll justice is, generally speaking, swift and violent.”

“That’s only a problem if we get caught, which we won’t!”

“Very well.  Lead on--where were you thinking of trespassing?”

“I...huh.  I dunno, I thought we could just wander around.”

“Ooh, wait, I’ve always wanted to visit Allernia University!”

“Do they let humans in there?”

“No!”

“Perfect!”

\--

Circles are closely tied to magia.  They’re symbols of cycles, of focus, and most importantly, of containment.

Here, inside an abandoned maintenance hive on the campus of Allernia City’s most prominent center of education, stands a circle of people.  They are essentially humanoid but gray-skinned, each with a unique pair of yellow-orange horns protruding through thick, wiry black hair.  Each of them has, emblazoned somewhere on their clothing, a sign in the color of the stick of chalk in their hands.  The shortest--and the only one dressed completely in monochrome--makes his way around the circle, adjusting their positions until, finally satisfied with the evenness of the ring they form, motions officiously for them to proceed.

Each of them draws their sign carefully on the floor, one of them stepping carefully over her finished mark to kneel at the epicenter of the ring.  She replaces the jade-green chalk in her hand with a white stick and begins very carefully to inscribe further circles on the smooth, dark stone of the floor.  Patterns of sigils follow, tightly packed around the central topic: a pair of interlocked crescent moons, one colored in white, the other left as an unfilled outline.

Once she seems satisfied, she makes way for a second troll, short and pointy with a noise like a blade and hair that looks like it’s been repeatedly shocked to stand on end.  Kneeling, he withdraws his own chalk from an inner pocket of his scuffed black and yellow coat and starts scrawling geometric enclosures around the central item.

“Don’t cross _any_ of them,” he says sharply as a troll in a white and red suit leans over his shoulder, inhaling deeply through her nose.  “They won’t break for any programs, but if any one of us scuffs the line gods only know what’ll happen.”

“Still, pretty slick,” says the observer, her grin widening.  “Good thing we have you, otherwise we’d have to rely on _Karkat’s_ coding!”

In one corner, the stocky troll who organized the rest of them into a regular circle glowers at both of them, his arms folded across his broad chest.  The one in the white suit winks one unseeing, pupil-less red eye in his direction and he flashes a crude hand gesture at her.

“Ehehe, yeah, wouldn’t want to bet all our lives on KK,” says the coder, and then his face twitches from a lopsided smile to a scowl and he snaps, “—Alright, back off, will you?  You can’t trust me to do a good job with someone looming over me, FUCK.”

She shrugs, unfazed, and turns on her heel with a blasé, “Whatever helps, Mister Captor!”

The coder--Captor--grumbles darkly unintelligible retorts but continues to scrawl technolurgical code between and around the signs with alternating white, blue, and red chalk.  The extra colors match his bicolored eyes—one scarlet and one electric blue, glowing with a faint inner light absent from the unseeing eyes of the troll in the white suit.

Around him, the other eleven trolls talk among themselves or check their own chalk work, always with an eye on his hand as it moves in angular paths around the central spell array.  His speed is erratic, at first quick and confident, then faltering to a frustrated crawl, then accelerating once more into a rattle of quick strokes.  Eventually, though, the click and scrape of the final bracket being drawn brings the rest of the group back to the edge of the ring, each standing by their respective sign.

The coder stands up with care, grimacing and contorting his arms to press both hands into the small of his back.  He examines his handiwork, nods, and then steps gingerly over the intricate chalked columns to stand by his own mustard-yellow sign.  As he crouches again, so do the others.

“Ready!” says Karkat, glancing around the ring of trolls with his hands raised dramatically in the air.  With some eye-rolling and grumbling, they follow suit.

“Now!”

Twelve pairs of hands smack into the floor, though not carelessly enough so as to touch even the corner of one of Sollux’s carefully coded barrier.  The air tightens and flexes as magia pours from them into the circle, controlled raw power to catalyze the spell marked at the center.

It takes a long moment for all of it to take effect.  Around the circle, teeth grit.  Tendons tense.  The tips of ears and noses, the only places where thick gray troll skin is translucent enough to show blood color, start to darken with rainbow blushes of effort.

And then, at the epicenter of the ring, a gap in the air opens up like a book, onto a view of pure nothingness.

Out of the blank, eye-watering hole in space rises a pair of twin winged shapes—twins, but negatives of each other, one shining white, one glossy black, each with pointed muzzles and wolfish ears cocked forward.  They look…attentive.

“The ultimate search engine,” says a troll with shaggy hair reaching to her lower back.  She stares almost hungrily at the apparitions, the seven pupils in her left eye contracting slightly as she searches for any extra details the naked eye would miss.  “Hey, Goody Four-eyes, are you sure you can contain these guys with _normal_ firewalls?  I thought firewall code was just the stuff you’d use for normal .ex files.”

“They _are_ just .ex files!” the coder snaps.  “I mean, okay, maybe one of them is technically a virus, but sources reliably state that the other one will keep it in check and bring it back to the circle once they’ve found the answer.  It’s going to be _fine_ , alright?  Have a little fucking faith.”

“Alright, alright, _gods_.”

“Yeah, you better back off.”

“Guys!” says a powerfully-built troll, her full, fuschia-painted lips curved into a deep frown.  “Let’s get it together!  We don’t have all night!”

“Me first,” says Karkat.

The coder rolls his eyes.  “We _know_ , KK, we drew straws!”

“Fuck off.”  Karkat stands up, glances around at everyone, and swallows hard.  “Is there a way,” he says, a little hoarsely, “to change a troll’s blood color?  With hemomagia?”

The faintest rustle goes around the circle, but Karkat has eyes only for the twin demons.  They turn smoothly to face each other, and he can see the faint flicker of transferring knowledge between their eyes; cross-referencing, seeking a starting point.

It is at this point that the window in the low ceiling above bangs open and a yelling blue-and-tan apparition falls through it with a great deal of undignified yelling, falling smack in the middle of the circle.  It’s followed by three other shapes, all shouting with the soft, gross accents peculiar to the human race, adding more and more interference between the linked gaze of the two demons.

Karkat feels the air around him strain as eleven trolls push with their powers against the black demon’s willful spirit, but he has the terrible feeling that it’s no use.

And then the air explodes.

There’s a confusion of colors as all the magias poured into the spell are loosed from its careful constraints.  Through it all, there are glimpses of a bolt of jet-black streaking up through the window, out into the night.  

There is no following bolt of white.

\--

Observe: a young man, lying on a smooth, dark stone floor.  The patch of sunlight coming through the only window (small, set high in the wall) has moved patiently across the room and is now inches from his face.  Unfortunately, before its slow crawl can reach fruition, his eyes open suddenly.  They are brilliant blue.

Upon waking, John Egbert is deeply disappointed.  It has nothing to do with the fact that he wakes up in what appears to be a jail cell (the door and windows are barred, which is kind of a hint), or with the fact that his whole body is sore.

He was dreaming about flying.

He remembers, quite vividly, his dream-self’s delighted disbelief, the euphoria of flight, the sweet sense of freedom…and now it’s gone, and he’s disappointed.  Of course, his primary preoccupation is with what feels like a full-body bruise, which dulls the disappointment somewhat.  He tries to roll over, regrets it, and lets himself sink onto his back again with a wince and a mournful glance at the window.  This movement of his head causes the sun to stab him in the eyes.  

As he tries to scoot his body away from the offending light without actually moving, a voice shifts into hearing range outside in the hallway--pleasant, deep, but in a higher register than his.   _“…must thank you for overstaying your shift to let me pay bail.  I will give you some extra financial compensation for your cooperation.  No trouble at all.”_ The speaker laughs, and John winces.

That is, without a doubt, the sound of Rose Lalonde using her diplomat voice.  To those who don’t know her, it seems silky-smooth with immaculate politeness, but John’s been traveling with her for months now and he’s learned to recognize the element of chilliness that appears when she’s tired or pissed off underneath it all.

 _Someone_ is going to get it good and John’s pretty sure it’s going to be him.  Which is why, as the voice comes level with his cell, he makes a split-second decision to play for pity.

“Roooose,” says John, letting his head loll to one side so that he can peer awkwardly up at her through the bars of the door.  “I feel like a giant monster stomped on my chest!  Well, basically everywhere but especially my chest.  I think my ribs are broken.  What did we do last night?  I’m trying to remember but I’m only getting colors.  Lots and lots of colors.”

She laughs her diplomat laugh.  “Officer, I’ll take him off your hands.  He’s clearly babbling…substance abuse, I assume?  Yes, I thought so as well.  I won’t let it happen again.  Thank you very much.”

“Roooo _oooooose_ ,” John groans as the door clangs open.

“You’re lucky, hornless,” says the guard--troll jail, troll guard, and this one’s _huge_.  “Humans don’t have the globes to deal with our courts.”  John yelps as square gray hands hook under his armpits, hauling him to his feet and shoving him bodily through the cell door.  He lands on his feet, but only barely, and he has to grab a handful of Rose’s soft white sleeves to keep his balance.  She gives him the briefest look of sympathy before pinching his ear and hauling him forward.

“Rose!  Ow ow ow ow—come on, everything hurts--!”

“And make sure he puts on some _clothes_ ,” the troll calls after them.  And then, in a carrying mutter, “indecent humans coming in like a fucking pestilence and I don’t know what else…”

“Rose, he called us indecent!”

“He called _you_ indecent,” says Rose, and for the first time John notices that her voice sounds somewhat strained.

“Hey,” he says, “are you getting the whole-body pain thing too?”

“Just my chest,” she murmurs.  “I’ll tell you more later, now _be quiet_.  We have to get somewhere safe.”

“Why?” John groans, and stubs his toe as it runs into a ridge in the floor paving.  “Ow, gods and hellfire!”

“I’ll explain when we get there, now keep up!”

As they clear the door, John finally manages to break free from her steely grip on his ear and staggers after her.  He’s never seen Rose Lalonde run, but she can walk at unearthly speeds; he has to jog to keep up, trying to stay near the hem of her wide purple skirt-trousers as they maneuver their way through crowds of trolls.  

Ripples of profanity and shocked gasps follow them, and John is reminded briefly of the guard’s comment.  He’s only been in troll civilization a day and he’s already learning things--currently, that they don’t appreciate a skinny brown human kid wandering around wearing only shorts and spelled seeing-goggles.  Bemused at the idea of his bare chest being particularly indecent, he glances down at it.

Then he does a spectacular double-take, causing him to trip over an errant foot and fall once again against Rose, who clicks her tongue with whipcrack ire, straightens him, and keeps walking while John tries to get a better look at his own chest, blinking bleary eyes at the blue…thing stamped on his skin.

“Rose?”

“John, please, we’ve almost reached the hotel.”

“Fine but, did you see this?  Did I get a tattoo last night?  I seriously don’t remember getting a—”

“Later, John!”

“Alright, but—ow!—why are the streets so crowded?  I thought trolls were only supposed to be awake at night!”

“I swear on the names of any of my zoologically dubious gods you want, _later_!”

\--

It’s pretty common knowledge throughout human territory that trolls are nocturnal.  As is so often the case, however, _common_ is not the same as _accurate_.  Troll tradition has changed a lot in the past century, and although many humans aware of that would claim responsibility for it, the truth is that they’ve mostly gotten there on their own.

Adult trolls never feel much affection for the generation following theirs—after all, troll children (or ‘wigglers’) are cared for by huge wild creatures known as lusii rather than their own species.  One thing humans do not know is the reason for this, which is that troll genes are not combined by any means so crass as direct physical means but rather by mixing contributions from all fertile trolls into a great incestuous slurry.  

The production of eggs from this slurry is the auspicious task of the Mother Grub, whose location is jealously guarded and known only by the jade-blooded matrons who guard and care for her and the drones that bring the genetic material to her.

Which is why, when it comes to adolescent trolls, survival depends not on its adults but an entirely different species.  And _this_ is why, when it comes to every new generation, rebellion and societal upheaval are practically the norm.

So by the time humans arrived on the scene, young trolls were already asking inconvenient questions like “why can’t we go out in the sun” and “who made these decisions anyway”.  Humans had little to nothing to do with it and by this time trolls are a pretty even mix of nocturnal and diurnal.

\--

The troll behind the desk at the hotel (or, as she would probably call it, “temporary communal hivestack”) looks like she couldn’t care less what time it is and would rather be in her cocoon regardless.  Rose compliments her on the shape of her horns—brusquely, because trolls balk at anything more cordial than formal enmity—and checks in.  

It’s only once John and Rose have entered the little moving room trolls call an elevationblock that Rose seems to relax somewhat.

“I am sorry, John, truly,” she says, looking him up and down in concern.  “I just think we may be in a lot of trouble and, not to beat around the thorny and extremely large bush, I’d like us all to be together if we have to run.”

“Run?  What?   _Rose_ , are you going to explain _any_ of the things you’re?” asks John, still somewhat peevish over the rather painful ten-minute walk (or stumble).  Then, softening a little, he says, “…Thanks for bailing me out, though.  And also for apologizing.  I might forgive you when everything stops hurting so much.”

“I’ll take it,” says Rose, her black-painted lips curving up ever so slightly.  The elevationblock makes the cricket-chirp noise signaling the end of its ascent and John follows Rose to the room the group reserved the previous evening.  When the door swings open, John is instantly relieved to find himself looking at his other two best friends.

There’s the thin, angular face and arched nose of his cousin Jade, and Dave’s coarse, white-blonde hair.  John waves weakly, noting through a haze of dull pain and confusion that Jade’s wearing a green silk scarf wrapped around her head, which is failing completely to contain her wild black curls.

“Thank the gods,” says Dave, with a hand signal which, John learned long ago, is highly profane where he comes from and makes the use of the phrase “thank the gods” ludicrously blasphemous. John rolls his eyes and flops down on one of the slightly leathery purple cushion-like things around the room.  They slept on these last night, eschewing the use of the grayish recuperacoon in the corner, filled with the green, sleep-inducing goop called sopor slime.

“You’re back!” says Jade.  “We thought Rose wouldn’t be able to find you!”

“Never underestimate Rose!” John exclaims, raising one weak pointer finger in the air.

“We’ve learned our lessons and are totally chagrined,” says Dave.  “So…where was he?”

“In _jail_ ,” says Rose.  “Not that it was entirely unexpected.”

“ _Troll_ jail?” asks Jade, sitting up.  “What was it like?  Did you have any trouble getting him out?  I have this theory—“

“Muh, it was basically like every human jail I’ve been in,” says John, rolling his head to one side and straining his eyes to look at her.  Even this minor effort leaves his neck muscles twanging, and he relaxes back with an _uuuhhhh_ noise.

“Wait, how many other jails _have_ you been in?” asks Dave.  “I’ve only seen you get arrested like…three times since we started traveling together.”

“That’s still no mean feat,” Rose points out.  “Jade?  You’ve been traveling with him longer, would you care to weigh in?”

Jade sighs.  “It’s probably better that you don’t know!  In his defense, though, it’s usually over really silly things…half the time it’s just a prank gone wrong!”

 _“So true,”_ John groans.

“Well, whatever the reason, some polislaughterer saw fit to imprison him and then I practically had to carry him home,” says Rose.

John frowns.  “And with good reason!  Walking’s not a favorite when you feel like a herd of horses just used you for kicking practice.  I think that troll magic did something to me.”

Dave’s face appears a couple of feet away as he squats nearby.  “…I don’t think it was the magic, _bhuro_.”

“Wait, so…you guys really don’t hurt all over?” John asks accusingly from his place on the purple cushion thing.

“Just the chest,” says Dave.  “That’s the same, but no, none of us turned into one big bruise overnight.”

“Then why do I—”

“Because,” says Rose patiently, “of what happened after the big magical flash of light—the one you mentioned, ‘with all the colors’, remember?”

“Yeah.”

“After that, all of the trolls who had been in the spell circle fell unconscious and something…happened to us.  Your memory seems to be somewhat patchy, but Dave and Jade confirm that it felt like some of the colored lights went…through them, _into_ them, and I had the same feeling..”

“Okay, I think I got that too,” John mumbles.  He’s starting to feel a little light-headed.  “Then…?”

“Then Jade and Dave vanished, and you…flew out through the window we came in through.  If you hadn’t been directly under it, you might have simply collided with the ceiling and that would have been the least of my worries, but you were… _fortuitously placed._ So you flew up and into the sky with a great gust of wind and I was the only one left.”

“So nothing happened to you?” asks John, and Jade gives his forehead a light, admonishing smack.

“She’s getting there, dumbass!  Just listen!”

“Thank you, Jade.  In any other circumstance I might have made finding you my first priority, John, given that I’d seen you physically leave.  But something inside me told me to wait there for a couple of minutes—the feeling is gone now, but at that point it was strong enough to be a certainty.  

“And, indeed, after a short while Dave reappeared.  There was a laborious series of questions leading to this conclusion, but in the end we established that although it seemed to me that he had vanished, from his point of view there seemed to be no interval between his disappearance and reappearance.  In short, it seems likely that he experienced some kind of...time travel.

“Jade we recovered by following my newfound supernatural instincts to a nearby wood.  We don’t believe she experienced any lapse in time, but instead only moved physically.  By that point, however, we had all begun to feel the adverse effects of our experience and decided to continue our search in the morning.  You took some finding, John!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sure,” John mumbles.  “You still haven’t explained why I got the full-body pummeling while you guys got off with just the chest pain, though.”

“We’re pretty sure you fell from the sky, _bhuro_ ,” says Dave.  “We don’t know how high up you went but either way you had a goddamn impressive fall.  You got bruises all over, not to mention that…blue thing.”

“Wait, I’ve got one too,” says Jade slowly.  “I mean, not blue and not that shape, but it’s in the same place and I certainly didn’t have it before last night!  I can’t believe I forgot to mention it before now--though I only saw it this morning, and we were all so worried about John...  But anyway, since we’re talking about things that changed since last night, I guess you guys might as well see these as well!”

And she pulls down the green scarf to reveal a pair of pointed ears covered in soft white fur.  John gapes.  Dave sits down heavily on the other cushion thing, looking a little shaken himself.

“Should we take this to mean,” says Rose slowly, “that you have…four ears?”

“The new ones mostly decorative, I think,” Jade says, “but I can move them!  Underneath the fur they’re kind of hard, though, not like flesh at all, and practically senseless.  I really don’t know what they are, but they have to be part of what we dropped into last night, right?”

“Mm,” says John absently.  His head is buzzing a little, and he forces himself into a sitting position with a wince, hoping to clear his head.  It helps, but only a little.

“None of _us_ have new ears, Jade,” says Dave, who sounds disturbed but bent on containing it.  “Just chest pain and…”  He glances over at the blue mark on John’s chest, pursing his lips.  John pushes himself to his feet and manages to stumble over to the little square mirror outside what the trolls call an “ablution block”.

It doesn’t look like a tattoo.  It’s too _bright_ , a sky-blue that no amount of ink could achieve if applied to his dark skin.  At the center of it, above his breastbone, is a thick vertical line, closely enclosed by a narrow rectangle.  Flowing from this little box are thick, tapered patterns that curl up around his collarbones and down his abdomen.  John traces a callused, big-knuckled finger over it experimentally, and finds to his wonderment that it feels slightly cooler than the rest of his skin.

His head buzzes again, and he shivers involuntarily.  A chill runs up his spine, followed by a wave of heat.

“Is anyone else…feeling kind of…” he starts, and then collapses on the floor, his head spinning.  Through slowly-blinking eyes, he watches Jade slowly drop to her knees and then let her torso tilt gently down towards the ground.  John feels a little better, as another heatwave washes over him, to know that he has a friend at the same angle to the floor as him.  He tries to wave to her but manages only to sort of flap his fingers.

Dave keeps standing the longest, probably purely out of pure stubbornness, but eventually he drops too.  John lets his eyes fall closed and surrenders himself to the fever.

\--

When Tavros Nitram wakes up, the first thing he feels is a sense is of emptiness, but not for any reason he can place.  The second thing he feels is the pain.  It’s nothing too awful, just a standard spellcasting hangover, but it’s still unpleasant to wake up to.  His broad, bull-like horns are aching right out to their very tips.  

When he opens his eyes, a shaft of noon light coming through the window makes them water and his secondary eyelids close automatically, reducing his view of the world to a confusing vertical slit.  He gives a heartfelt groan and sits up—there’s that feeling of emptiness again, the impression that something’s missing.

What is it?

He looks around the room, easing his eyelids open.  Some of the other mages have already left, managing somehow--if they feel as terrible as he does--to wake up and walk out without collapsing on the first step.  Feferi, Eridan, and Gamzee are already gone.  This isn’t entirely surprising, since the first two have the constitution of moobeasts and Gamzee, quite apart from having the same physical strength that comes with his cooler shade of blood, is never ever late for work.

Everyone else appears to have been less lucky.  Karkat is leaning against a wall, stubbornly resisting gravity but apparently unable or unwilling to step away.  Tavros watches as Nepeta tries and fails to sit up, collapsing after the third attempt with a disgruntled sigh.  Everyone else is lounging in varying degrees of unhappy doze.

“So,” he says to the world at large, his voice a croak, “I guess that didn’t work.”

And he tries to stand up.

Tavros’s legs are weak and tricky to handle at the best of times, but he’s sure they’ll be even less happy than usual than usual to support him in the aftermath of such a dangerously unsuccessful spell.  He intends, gingerly pushing himself into a crouch, to give himself an extra boost with a cushion of air.  He’s gotten used to support from his pneumamagia to help him through the day and make walking less painful, and it’s only when that help fails to arrive at a gentle push from his will that he realizes what the empty feeling is.

His magia is gone.

Trying to subdue both the feeling of panic rising inside him and the immediate impulse to contact his closest confidant, he swallows and says, “Uh, Nepeta?”

“What?” Nepeta Leijon mumbles, her narrowed green eyes sliding in his direction under her skewed lion-skull headgear.

“Can you…can you still feel your magia?  I mean, can you use it?”

“Hm…”  She closes her eyes again, frowning.  Then she waves a hand in a tugging motion and Tavros has the odd but by now familiar sensation of sharing emotions with Nepeta Leijon.  It’s not as jarring as the results of Nepeta’s kardiamagia usually are, though, because at the moment she’s experiencing much the same feelings as he is.

Minus the rising panic, of course.

Beside Tavros, Aradia Megido rolls over and grumbles.  Tentatively, Tavros reaches over to shake one of her shoulders.  His best friend makes a noise of complaint not unlike her lusus’s bleats, but blinks open her rust-lined eyes to survey him with resigned grumpiness.

“Aradia,” he says slowly, “hey, this is kind of important…can you still use your magia?  Mine…I think mine’s gone.”

“Tavros, what the hell are you talking about over there?” calls Karkat, who seems to have caved to gravity’s inexorable pull while Tavros wasn’t looking.  He’s glaring accusingly over his knees at them.  Tavros isn’t especially sure he wants to tell Karkat what he’s talking about over here, so he pretends he doesn’t hear the shout and focuses on Aradia instead.

“Aradia, please try…it’s important.  Just a little time loop, or, something?  I don’t know…”

“If you say so,” she groans, and raises one hand in the air, bringing it back down again in a lazy arc.

There’s a pause.

“Uh…did it work?” Tavros tries.

“If it had worked, it would already have worked,” murmurs Aradia, her eyes slowly opening.  “…Which _means_ …that my magia _is_ gone!  Tavros, my magia is gone!”

“You sound…awfully happy about that?”

“How many intruders were there last night?” asks Aradia, completely ignoring his comment and sitting upright.  “There were more than two humans here, I’m sure of it!  We have to wake everyone up and ask around!”

Tavros, still dazed, watches as she hurries over to Sollux and Kanaya, who are still out cold.  “Do we?  I mean, some of us are already gone.  Feferi and Eridan, and Gamzee—“

“Then we’ll ask them later!” says Aradia.  “It’s important!”

While Aradia bustles around waking up their friends and insisting that they test their magia, Tavros stares at his limp, aching legs and thinks over and over again, _I don’t want to need the canes again._

In the end, it’s Kanaya and Vriska who reach for their power and open their eyes with the expression shock and loss still reverberating inside Tavros.  Vriska is instantly furious, while Kanaya seems to be have some kind of subdued panic attack.

But Eridan and Feferi aren’t the only ones attending classes, and Gamzee isn’t the only one with a job, so the rest of them slowly filter out together with shared reassurances that they’ll meet again as soon as possible.  Nepeta leaves supporting Equius with one of his beefy arms over her broad shoulders, Sollux and Karkat kick each other all the way out the door, and eventually Aradia seems to pick up on Tavros’s subtle implications that he would like to be alone.

As she leaves, she says, “PM me sometime.”

And then she’s gone.  Alone in the dusty darkness of the abandoned hive, Tavros pulls the old canes out of their place in his storage deck, setting them aside for later.

It’s time to see if he can talk to the Summoner.

He was afraid to try at first.  Wiser Selves are supposed to be a manifestation of a troll’s magia…if the talent is gone, won’t the Wiser Self also vanish?

He has to try, though.

There’s a moment of panic where he thinks that it really won’t work, that his constant confidant and source of encouragement is gone.  But then there’s the familiar warmth and sense of presence at his left shoulder and he turns to see the Summoner smiling down at him.  But it’s a worried smile, and Tavros imagines that the figure next to him seems somehow thinner, less present than usual.

“…What’s going on?” asks Tavros.  “Do you know what happened?  I can’t…I can’t walk properly anymore.”  He glances at the canes, his mouth tightening for a moment. “…Not without, those, anyway.”

_I dunno, it was glowspheres out for me the instant you went unconscious.  But I think without the magia something bad’s gonna happen.  Between you and me, I mean.  I feel weak, you know?_

“Yeah,” says Tavros, and takes a deep breath.  This was not supposed to happen.  He wants to be angry at everyone else for getting him into this mess, but more than that he’s angry at himself for going along with it.

But more even than that, he’s angry at whoever took his magia.

\--

In the blinding heat of the fever, Jade opens her eyes and sees, quite clearly, someone standing next to her.  It’s not Dave, Rose, or John.

It’s a slender young man, dark-skinned but heavily freckled, with deep green eyes.  He’s staring at her with what appears to be great concern.  He seems to be trying to say something, but she can’t hear it.

“Hey,” she says, blinking sweat out of her eyes.  “Hey, how’d you…how’d you…”

Another blink, and when she opens her eyes again, it’s dark.  Jade sits up abruptly, feeling clammy but less like a ball of burning pins and needles.  To her right lies Rose, very still but with her eyes wide open and watchful.  John is sprawled on the floor near the water basin, groaning deep in his chest.  Dave clearly did his best to stay upright in his chair, but has slumped over to one side, his glasses halfway down his nose, his mouth slack.

“...Food poisoning?” says Jade hoarsely.

Dave shakes his head slowly, raising himself for the first time.  “Stomach was fine.  Might be troll stuff.  Might have something to do with the fucking rainbow land we waltzed into last night, all treating that magic circle like our goddamn dancefloor--”

Rose clears her throat, giving him a sharp look.  “Wait.  We’ve been in the grips of a vicious fever since this morning.”

“I _know_ ,” John groans, clapping his hands to his face.  “I still feel terrible!”

“As do I, John, but my point is that while we were lying around feeling terrible, there was a conspicuous lack of polislaughterers breaking down the door and rounding us up for the illegal interruption of a magical ceremony.”

“That’s true,” says Jade thoughtfully.  “What do you think it means?  Are we just that hard to find, or maybe…”

“The spellcasters didn’t report the incident?” asks Jade, her eyes wide.  “But why wouldn’t they?”

“At this point, we can only speculate and continue planning our departure,” says Rose, sitting up slowly.  “But first, I feel I should ask…did anyone else experience…hallucinations?”

John, who has propped himself up on his elbows, opens his mouth instantly as though about to speak, but what comes out is not really a word at all but something that sounds like, “Yyeeeeeeeeno.  No, just some weird dreams, heheh!”

Rose narrows her eyes at him, but makes no further comment.  Looking down with apparent distaste at her sweat-stained clothes, she says, “What about the rest of you?”

“You know I hold no cart with psychomancy,” says Dave blandly.  “Let that fuckin’ cart go.  It’s rollin’ down a hill.  Who’s gonna stop it?  Not this guy.  Save your dream interpretations for people who actually believe that shit.”

“That isn’t exactly an answer but I will allow you your ridiculous obfuscation this time.  I’m going to go use the shower.”

“ _I_ saw something,” Jade offers, raising a hand as Rose gets to her feet.  “There was a boy with green eyes standing over me!  He looked worried…”

Rose gives her a sharp, curious look.  “Not a blonde girl with pink eyes?”

“Well no!” says Jade, “I think there’s a big difference there, don’t you?  I may have been out of my head but I remember it clearly!”

“Interesting,” says Rose, and then glances back at John and Dave.  “Either you two are not being entirely honest with me or there’s some kind of correlation in the fact that only Jade and I saw these mysterious visions.  I would wager you all my mother’s money that it has something to do with these marks on our chests.”

She pulls up her undershirt, displaying a breastband that looks as though it’s been saturated with sweat and a circle surrounded by an array of wavy orange marks tattooed across her chest.  Dave gives this revelation a moment’s glance before looking awkwardly away again.

“I’m sorry to damage your delicate sensitivities, _Khugai_ Strider,” says Rose, doing some kind of graceful obeisance Jade can only assume is native to Dave’s country.  He grimaces.

“Give me a break, Lady Lalonde, it’s not like I’m telling you _not_ to do that.  Can’t a guy who didn’t see ankles before the age of fifteen have some time to adjust to culture shock?”

“If hearing the language of your homeland doesn’t comfort you in the face of rampant exposure of flesh, I’m not sure how to help you,” says Rose, and walks off in the direction of one of the little side rooms.

There’s a pause, during which Dave stares blankly at the floor and John hauls himself to his feet and dunks his head into the basin.  From the other room, there’s a sound of faint pattering that escalates quickly into a gush of water.  Presumably, Rose has had no difficulty in making the troll appliances function.

“Bookshrew,” Dave mutters.

“It _was_ a little mean of her,” Jade agrees, stretching.  “Especially when you’ve made it pretty clear you don’t want to be treated like anyone special!”

He glances at her, brow furrowing.  “Have I?  Didn’t notice.”

Jade rolls her eyes.  “ _Dave_.  We’ve been traveling together for more than two months now, and I’ve gotten pretty good at hearing what you’re not saying.  Which is a _lot_ , by the way.  And so has Rose, probably!  You know what I think?”

“Nope, can’t read minds like you,” says Dave, but his mouth might be curved very slightly up.

“I think she’s worried about what’s happening to all of us, and she thought you might be being a little dishonest, so she got angry.”

Dave looks stung.  “Well, what about John?  He’s acting suspicious as fuck and I don’t see any nosy wordmongers fucking with him.”

“Oh, we all know already that John has no sense of self-preservation!”

“It’s true!” says John, waving from the corner.

“...But I guess Rose thought you might know better,” says Jade with an apologetic half-shrug.

Dave’s mouth tightens a little and he cocks his head to one side as though listening to something.  Then he says, “What do you think?”

“You’d never hide anything that would endanger us,” says Jade firmly.  “At least…not for long.  I mean, there was that thing with the assassins last month but you definitely explained what was going on when they started attacking us!”

“Actually,” says John, flopping back down on a cushion with water dribbling down his face and neck, “he only explained _after_ that happened.  What he said _when_ it happened was ‘oh fuck oh fuck they found me fuck we’re dead everyone wake up’.”

“You are _never_ going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Nope,” says John smugly.  “You guys want me to order some more of that crazy troll food, or should we pick off of their human menu tonight?”

“Definitely the second thing,” says Dave.

“But I want troll food again!” Jade adds, grinning hugely.  “Why are we even _here_ if we’re not going to sample the cuisine?”

“Eat all the dead baby trollbugs you want, Jade,” says John, scratching her behind one fluffy white ear.  “I will be here to support you when you catch some weird sickness from it.”

They spend their time waiting for the food taking turns in the shower and chatting amiably about past adventures.  It’s only once everything has finally arrived—carried by a teal-blooded troll wearing a semi-permanent smirk—that the subject of their conversation comes back around to the unnatural events of last night.

Rose, who seems to have made a private apology to Dave (the two of them never do such things in front of others if they can help it), is the first to address the topic.  On the table next to her, the little black tech demon WV raises a little menu above its head for her perusal.  Rose presses a fingertip to the option “Record” and then begins.

“I’m initiating a discussion on the grounds that it might be best to analyse our unusual situation before taking action.  What do we know?  

“Firstly, that we landed in the middle of some kind of troll group spell.  

“Secondly, that directly after that event we each experienced some kind of strange and possibly magical phenomenon.  John was moved by the air, Jade traveled in space while Dave was transported into the future, and I received remarkable clarity of foresight which I still assert was magical in nature.  

“Thirdly, that these powers faded but we were left with these marks on our chest, each with a different pattern but featuring at their epicenters a shape that resembles a keyhole…”

John peers down at his still-bare chest.   “Does it?  I guess it kind of does.  Some kind of slot, anyway.”

“Another apt description,” Rose concedes.  “Fourthly, however, we have this final mystery of the shared simultaneous fevers and the ghostly people that Jade and I saw while we were unwell.  I have my own theories, but your contributions are, as usual, most welcome.”

“I like how you numbered everything,” says Jade thoughtfully.  “I do appreciate having things organized!  I’d like to add a fifth point about my new ears.”

Rose inclines her head generously.  “Duly noted.”

“The other thing we know,” says John, “is that humans usually can’t do stuff like travel through time or space or whatever!  Only trolls can!  Even if we only did it for a little while, it still happened, and _that_ must mean—“

“Oh shit,” says Dave, “we have _troll magic_ in us?”

Rose gives him a steady purple stare.  “I think that may be exactly the case.”

\--

After a full day of school, work, or sleeping, a series of exchanged PMs has slowly established that the situation is more serious than anyone could have anticipated.  Magia missing, no word of the missing demons _or_ humans, and to add injury to insult, severe aches and pains all around.

An emergency meeting has been called.  For lack of a better place to bring everyone together, the twelve trolls have returned to the place where they tried to cast the spell in the first place, and the largest block of the old maintenance hive has been lit once again with floating glowspheres.

Kanaya, Tavros, and Vriska avoid each others’ eyes for the most part, preferring not to see the same emptiness in each other that they feel in themselves.  Aradia, however, seems more cheerful than she has in sweeps.  Tavros, who has always wondered and worried at the fact that his best friend has never shown anyone her Wiser Self, tries to find solace in the fact that whatever issues she had with her Wiser Self, they will soon cease to trouble her.

Gamzee Makara is the last one to arrive, his long, bare feet slapping the floor as he makes his ungainly way over to the ragged circle of trolls.  His horns are graceful curves befitting a troll of his vaunted social class, rising above a soft face daubed with the gray and white paint worn by all those of his religion.

Most of the trolls are already seated, except for Eridan Ampora, who can’t find anything clean to sit on, and Karkat, who likes standing above people.  Gamzee winds his way through the group, occasionally treading on hands and uttering clumsy but earnest apologies.

“Brother!” he says, circling his hands in the salute of the Twin Serpents cult.  “What’s all the happening?”

“You’re late, shitsponge,” says Karkat, but without much vitriol.  “I haven’t seen you all fucking day!  How’d you do your job without falling off a hivetop running your packages around today?  The rest of us felt like we’d gone one-on-one with Equius.”

“You would look considerably worse in that situation,” says Equius Zahhak from the corner where he’s sitting, straight-backed and awkward, on a wooden crate.  He peers gravely over the tops of his smoked-glass spectacles at Karkat until Nepeta, crouching nearby, nudges his knee with one muscular shoulder, rolling her eyes at him.  Karkat ignores them both and shoos Gamzee away before stepping to the center of the crowd to address everyone.

“Alright,” he says, clapping his hands together officiously, “What do we know?”

Immediately, eleven voices begin rehashing the events of last night—summoned demons, humans turned up, demons escaped, everyone knocked unconscious, magia mysteriously gone.  Karkat tries to wave them into silence but in the end this only exacerbates the issue when the trolls who have already finished answering his initial question object loudly to being hushed.

“Everyone knows what happened!” says Terezi pointedly.  “Your interrogation methods are terrible, Shouty McNubbs.”

Karkat, affronted at this reference to his unnaturally small, rounded horns, snaps, “Oh, and I suppose yours are better!”

Terezi gives him a long suffering sigh and swivels her head in a way that implies she would be rolling her eyes if she could.  “Yes, dumbass, that is exactly what I mean.  You should be asking _real_ questions.  Like who were those humans, why were they here, where are they now?”

“One at a fucking time,” Karkat mutters, a little lamely.

“There is not a great deal to say about them,” says Equius in his light, gravelly voice.  “Four humans interfered with our spell—which I still think was a poorly conceived endeavor in the first place, and I would like to reiterate that I _only_ participated so that I could keep an eye on my moirail—“

“Wow, derailed much?” says Vriska rolling her eyes.  “Let’s try that again, why don’t we? They interrupted, ran off with our magia, and--just a _minor_ point of interest-- _only released the demons of the ultimate fucking search engine_.”

“Wait...did you just suggest that the humans are now in _possession_ of our talents?” asks Equius sharply.

“What, you don’t think so?  Magia doesn’t just _evaporate_ , sweatlord!”

“ _Either way_ ,” Kanaya interrupts, “the fact is that none of this is…an optimal situation.  Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“This can _not_ get out,” says Eridan forcefully.  “I’ll lose my scholarships, my social standing—that’s if I don’t get expelled first!”

“So we just report it to the polislaughterers without telling them it was us,” says Vriska impatiently.  “Easy as that!”

Terezi snorts loudly.  “Grow up, Serket.   In any other situation I would say contacting the polislaughterers was the best course of action, but our magia is all over this room!  They wouldn’t even have to sniff around for five minutes before tagging all twelve of us, and the consequences would be _dire_.  Some of us have too much at stake.  I think we can solve this on our own, which is good because we may have to!”

“Just as well, not like those lazy grubfuckers are even _competent_ ,” says Vriska, her secondary eyelids flicking in annoyance.  “Alright, then, Plan B: we hunt them down.  Technically my Plan A, actually, but I assumed I’d get shouted down.  Just goes to show what I know!”

“That’s what they’re expecting!” yells Karkat, and then everything devolves into chaos again for about five minutes.  Eventually, however, one particular shouting match takes precedence.

“No!” shouts Terezi as the hubbub dies down.  She’s nose-to-nose with Vriska, of course--as if they’d fight anyone else while the other one was in the room.  “I’m _not_ suggesting _we_ hunt them down!  I’m suggesting we carefully gauge their personalities, convince them we want to help— _without_ Karkat’s ‘assistance’—and then _I_ conduct the final...negotiations.”

“And the rest of us don’t get to have any fun?  It’s not like we even have a way to contact them!”  Vriska snorts, her fangs bared in a threat display.  Terezi hisses in response.

“It’s not about _fun_!  Your magia is gone and so is Tavros’s!  And Aradia’s and Kanaya’s!  This is serious business and you have _never_ been able to handle being serious!”

“Terezi,” says Kanaya sharply, stepping between them, “I know you two have a…history, but now is not the time for baiting each other.  Or _flirting_ ,” she adds coldly, and glances at Vriska.  The cerulean-blood bridles, the tips of her ears tinged blue.

“You had your chance at this earlier, Maryam,” she snaps.  “Don’t try edging in on my ashen quadrant now just because pale didn’t work out!”

Now it’s Kanaya’s turn to blush.  “I—that—not that you have the social awareness necessary to understand what was going through my head then, but if you’d wanted to remain my _moirail_ —“ she snaps the word out like a whipcrack, “—you should have _controlled your magic a little better_ , don’t you think?”

“Oh, you’re bringing this up _now_ , are you?” snarls Vriska, her attention now totally diverted from Terezi.  “In front of everyone else?  First pale, then I find out later you wanted red, and now here you are stepping in and picking fucking _fights_ \--if you’re going for the full set of quadrants, this is the worst way to go about it!”

“This,” says Kanaya in a voice that could freeze oceans, “is completely _platonic_ dislike.  And _platonic_ mediation, thank you very much!  But you know what?  Both of you do what you will.  I’m tired of being everyone’s conscience!”

And she walks away, pushing through the awkwardly silent audience towards the door.  Karkat opens his mouth as she draws level with him, but she gives him a sharp look and he closes it again slowly, looking down.

“...Al _right_ , then,” he says as Kanaya’s footsteps fade away in the outside corridor, “I think we should stay here for a couple days just to work out a plan of action.  Who’s with me?”

“Do whatever the fuck you want, Vantas,” says Vriska.  “As usual, no one’s listening to me, but you’ll all see!  When all your passive-aggressive messages get you nothing, you’ll wish you’d listened to me!”

As soon as she’s gone, Terezi starts towards the door as well, held back only briefly by Sollux’s voice—“TZ, come on, are you gonna take the last of the sanity with you?  Don’t leave me here with these crazy assholes!”

“That’s not very nice,” says Feferi, without much rancor.  Sollux shrugs and then winces, clutching the back of his neck.  As Terezi leaves without replying, Feferi starts massaging Sollux’s shoulders with broad, soft hands.

“Do you two _have_ to be so disgustingly sentimental during our very important meeting?” Karkat calls over everyone else’s heads.  The tip of his nose is a dull red, whether from anger or embarrassment or both.  Sollux flips him off and settles back gratefully against his matesprit’s hands.

“This ‘meeting’ is a total shambles,” says Equius, glaring over his glasses at Karkat.  As one of the oldest trolls in the group, his gray eyes have almost completely filled in with his blood color, and the gleam of aristocratic blue would be enough to cow many trolls with blood hues warmer than jade green.  

Karkat is far from cowed.  “It _wouldn’t_ be such a ‘shambles’ if you fuckers would stop bumping horns and focus on the important stuff here!  You’ve all gone shithive maggots and I’m stuck in the middle of it!  Trapped in your incompetency!”

“Yeah, whatever,” says Eridan.

“That’s harsh, brother,” says Gamzee, whose tone is as naturally easy-going as Karkat’s is rancorous.

“That’s because I’m stressed as all fuck,” Karkat grumbles, and sinks to the floor with a deep scowl on his face.  “Three people have already left and yes, they were crazy, but it’s not like any of _you_ were listening to me either.”

The silence that follows is filled with the awkward tension that always comes after a troll showing vulnerability in public.  Pity is one of the driving forces behind the of troll relationships based on positive emotions, and Karkat Vantas, when he’s not being totally hateable, is truly terribly pitiful.

Sollux breaks the moment by saying loudly, “Come on, you should’ve known the Scourge Sisters would go off on their own like they always do.  Stop feeling sorry for yourself, nubslurp!”

To the relief of everyone except Nepeta, who had been staring avidly at Karkat’s hunched form, and Gamzee, who still has one large hand ponderously extended toward him, Karkat springs to his feet and spews one of his creatively profane tirades in Sollux’s direction.  After a couple minutes, the atmosphere has settled back into its usual familiar state of general animosity, and everyone is feeling a little more comfortable.

“If you want to be our _leader_ ,” Sollux yells stubbornly over the stream of expletives, “why don’t you just tell us what the hell you want us to do and we can decide if we want to do that, huh?”

“Uh,” says Equius from his corner.  Nepeta rolls her eyes and pulls a fluffy white towel from her storage deck, handing it up to Equius.  Karkat gives him a look that says, _Really?_

“…Fine,” he says, and puts his hands on his hips with an air of extreme self-importance.  “Sollux, I want you to try and find a way to contact those humans!”

“That’s impossible.”

“You asked what I wanted you to do!  I’m not saying I’m not the superior hacker here but as _leader_ I don’t have time to deal with minutiae so suck it the fuck up, you skeletal lisping midget!”

“I regret all my decisions,” Sollux mumbles, craning his neck to look up at Feferi.  She giggles.

“If they’re still here in the city, we might be able to track them down so Nepeta, you can try that!”

“It’s not exactly the same a hunting in the wild,” says Nepeta uncertainly, rubbing the short-trimmed hair on the back of her head.  “But…I can try!”

“Gamzee, you too.  Keep an eye out for any…suspicious humans or weird deliveries while you’re running around at work, got it?”

Gamzee grins widely, his dark, droopy eyes creasing as he does so.  “Aw, I can get my try on.”

“Tavros and Aradia, you’re the only two with missing magia we have left so talk to your Wiser Selves some more, maybe see if there’s a precedent for the shit that’s happening to you.”

“Not like I have much else to do,” says Tavros, his uncharacteristic bitterness drawing a few furtive glances from the rest of the group.  Aradia stands on tiptoe to pat his shoulder and says, “We’ll try!”

“And the rest of you…do whatever the fuck you want, just report back to me!” says Karkat.  “And I need permission from all of you to connect your PMs for a group messaging system!”

“You mean so I can set up a group messaging system for you?” Sollux pipes up, earning himself a furious glare.

“So _I_ can set it up!” Karkat repeats.  “Make an orderly queue and we’ll take care of that, alright?  Let’s go let’s go let’s go!”

As the trolls fall extremely reluctantly into line, Eridan turns to Sollux and mutters, “Great job, genius.”

“Like you could do any better, brinesucker.”

“Quiet down back there!” shouts Karkat.

\--

“If we have troll magic, does that mean we’re going to turn into trolls?”

It’s evening.  In light of recent unwelcome discoveries, the four travelers still haven’t left the town and have instead started discussing their options.

Except for John, who has other worries.

“Cool down, _bhuro_.  Nothing’s happened yet so no reason to panic.”

“I’m not panicking, just wondering!  Am I going to start wanting to have hatemances with people?”

“It’s called kismesisitude or pitch romance!” Jade says, sounding torn between exasperation and amusement.  “Didn’t you do any research before deciding we should head into troll territory?”

“How was I supposed to?” says John, mock-wounded.  “Rose has all the books and you’re better at asking people questions!  All I’m saying is, I don’t want to wake up tomorrow and find out I’m a gray, orange-horned rainbow-blooded angerball with five different husbandwives to find!  I don’t know _how_ to hate-date!”

“It’s only four, and that’s not going to happen,” says Jade.  “You need to calm your blue-tattooed pectorals, John!”

John makes a noise like a deep-voiced baby whose toy just got taken away and rolls limply off the purple troll cushion he was lying on.

“ _So_ , Rose,” says Dave in an obvious attempt to steer the conversation back to its original course, “you think we should try and have peace talks with the spellcasters we interrupted?”

Rose shakes her head slowly.  “I will not meet them face-to-face to discuss this--at least, not at first.   Their culture is simply objectively more violent than ours and their courts are…less than democratic.  We must play our cards very, _very_ carefully.”

“Must we?” asks Jade, looking surprised.  “I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?”

Rose tells her.

“Wow,” says Jade.  “That’s…terrible but also really interesting!  How do you know that?”

“My…I mean to say, someone I knew once had the misfortune of watching a trollian trial while she was visiting the magistrangler of a local troll town,” says Rose tightly.  “Things have changed a lot since then but we’re still not on the best of terms.  And ‘stealing’ magia is hardly an easily overlooked crime.”

“Then we _should_ run,” John insists.

“Not if we can get out free of charges by contacting them to get this screwup fixed!” says Jade.  “We just have to figure out…who they are, I guess?”

“You know,” says Dave, who’s tapping his jaw with one finger, “I think I might know why they haven’t reported us.  It’s like we said earlier, if they _had_ , there would be police or drones or whatever the hell they got here hunting in the streets for four humans, right?”

Rose nods.  “Certainly.  Although in our luck, we’ve managed to find one of the most human-tolerant troll cities on the continent; there are plenty of fleshy bipedal mammals here for them to confuse us with.  And my, but they do seem to have trouble telling us apart...”

“Right, whatever, what I’m trying to say is...those trolls we basically fucking jumped on--whoever they were--must want to keep it secret as much as we do.”

“A sound theory,” says Rose graciously.  

“So, what?” asks John, sounding somewhat apprehensive.  “We’re still running, right?  We have to!”

“We may be safe for now,” says Rose.  “There are plenty of other humans in this city, and even if trolls didn’t have fundamental issues telling members of our race apart, I don’t think they can have gotten a very good look at us.”

“And I don’t know about you, but walking doesn’t exactly sound like a party to me right now,” says Dave, giving each of them a quick look.  “We just spent a whole twenty-four hours wallowing in our own sweat and even Jade isn’t her usual picture of unnervingly perky good health.”

“Thank you, Dave.”

“Welcome.”

“But--but I’m ready to go!” says John petulantly, glancing at the door.  “They’re probably out there looking for us anyway!”

“Probably,” Rose replies smoothly.  “But consider this: trolls know that we humans are mainly diurnal--”

“Awake during the day,” Jade interjects, glancing at John’s furrowed brow.

“--yes, thank you Jade.  What I’m saying is, how suspicious do you think we would look trying to leave now?  Four strange humans, risking the dangers of Allernian streets at night to leave the city?  If they _are_ looking for us, as you so astutely posited, then we would do best to stay where we are until light.”

“Hrrmnnn,” says John, glancing out the window.  Then, squaring his shoulders like a man determined to make the best of a terrible situation, he says, “Well, does anyone have a deck of cards?”

Later, in the moonlight-dusted darkness of the room, John opens his eyes slowly and lets the sounds of the room fill his ears.  Deep breathing, Dave’s by-now familiar snore (gentler than Jade’s great, snarling inhales but far more frequent), and the very faint electric buzz of .ex files patiently charging on the magic in the air.

Everyone seems to be asleep, but John doesn’t want to take any chances.  Best to get some privacy.

Tiptoeing around their prone bodies, he makes his way onto the little balcony that overlooks the central courtyard of the hotel and thinks about the wind.

It gets easier every time.  Now it only takes a couple of seconds for her to appear.

“Hi, Jane!” says John.  “Still don’t know why you exist?”

 _No,_ sighs the short, round girl standing next to him.  There’s a faint bluish glow about her—or more accurately, within her.  Her being is filled with an internal luminescence.

“That’s okay,” John tells her comfortingly, and pats her back.  It’s odd, but having Jane around doesn’t feel weird at all, despite the fact that she only just appeared and apparently he’s the only one who can see her.  Her presence feels totally natural, almost like being around a copy of himself, but different enough to be kind of…refreshing.

In short, John gets the undeniable impression that he can trust her with anything.  Any problems, any secrets, any feelings he might not otherwise share.  Considering this phenomenon, he meets her eyes and says, very seriously, “Do you want to help me plan an awesome prank for next morning?”

\--

Kanaya Maryam is very tired.

She hardly slept at all last night, angry as she was with Vriska.  Even an hour in the ablution trap, letting hot water sluice away the green residue of her fitful five hours in sopor slime, does nothing to help.  

A look in her reflection pane reveals her to be no paler than usual  (she has always had an unusual pallor), with the same angular shoulders and narrow waist she sees every day getting dressed.  She wishes occasionally that she’d been hatched for flared hips like Nepeta or Eridan, whose bodies are, if not exactly the same as human females’, at least better suited to the clothing made for them.

Sighing, she pulls on one of her treasured dresses—purchased from some of the few traveling human clothiers who are willing to do business with trolls and altered to fit her figure—and sweeps out the door to make important visits.

Sollux, Karkat, and Eridan share a block in a hivestem across the street.  One might think this was a recipe for disaster, and although indeed Sollux is awake at almost all hours at his husktop, Karkat is…Karkat, and Eridan refuses to reveal to any of his school friends that he lives in close quarters with two short, angry warmbloods…they’ve somehow managed to bump along for a sweep and a half.  Kanaya is impressed by this aspect of their cohabitation, if nothing else about it.  

There are empty (or, in some cases, half-full) nutrition packets strewn across the floor, the rejection receptacle by Sollux’s desk is overflowing, and a whole couch is occupied by outfits Eridan is considering for next week.  Mentally, Kanaya crosses off three of them.  Seadwellers can be so gaudy…

“Kanaya!”

Even if she hadn’t been able to recognize the voice, Kanaya would have instantly known it was Feferi.  No one can sound quite as excited about seeing someone you last saw half a day ago as Feferi can.  Short, broad, and well-muscled from years of practicing underwater martial arts (a seatrolls-only sport, of course), she also gives hugs that seem to grind bones together and crush the air from respiration sacks.

This she does now, releasing Kanaya only when the taller troll coughs out a rather winded “Good morning!”.  Kanaya steps back to catch her breath and straighten her dress, glancing at the room’s other occupants.

“Why are they so quiet?  I don’t think I’ve ever heard them go more than five minutes without arguing…it’s rather off-putting.”

“We’re right here,” mutters Karkat, glaring at her.  “Also, did you come here to _start_ an argument or did you have something constructive to add?”

There are shadows under his eyes, darker than usual.  Kanaya clicks her tongue and pulls a couple of hot grub buns out of the bag she filled on a brief detour before arriving.  Karkat’s eyes light up.

“You know, for a moment I thought you were too tired to argue!  How long has it been,” she says, suspiciously, “since you last ate?  Or slept, for that matter.  Sollux, close your husktop.”

“Can’t,” says Sollux, who’s actually resting his cheek on the desk to stare at his screen from a 90-degree difference in angle.  Kanaya nods at Eridan who, always more than happy to irk Sollux, snaps the husktop closed on Sollux’s thin fingers.  The yellow-blood squawks and sits straight up, his glowing pupils expanding to white holes in his eyes.

“You wanna _go_?”

“Not in the apartment, buoys,” says Feferi.  The atmosphere relaxes somewhat, although Eridan mumbles something about it being too early in the morning for fish puns.

Everyone has a bun and, at Kanaya’s insistence, a cup of water.  Sollux even ducks into his respiteblock to change his clothes—something he forgets to do when he spends too long at his husktop, Feferi confides in Kanaya.  Kanaya sniffs but manages not to shudder.

Eventually, after food and drink have been consumed and minimal small talk made, Kanaya asks what they’ve been trying to do here.

“Find the humans,” says Karkat immediately.  There’s no question of _which_ humans he means.

Kanaya frowns.  “…You mean the way Vriska wanted to?”

“Not at all,” says Eridan, looking mildly appalled.  His pitch romance with Vriska didn’t last long but his dislike of her hasn’t entirely faded.  “We think we should do this all together as a group!  With _strategy_.”

“Like I’ve said a _million_ times, reading military history books doesn’t make you an automatic authority on strategy,” says Sollux through a mouthful of grubloaf.  “You have got to stop saying that.”

“Make me, bee-brain.”

“That’s the most fucking obtuse and ignorant insult I’ve ever heard!  You don’t know the first thing about bees _or_ their brains!”

“No, and I don’t—“

They both stop abruptly as Kanaya makes a small noise in the back of her throat, indicating that while she may not be inclined to step between them, they ought to calm down a little.  As they sit back, glaring platonic enmity at each other, Kanaya glances at Feferi.

“Have any of you considered perhaps…contacting the humans somehow?” she asks.  “I know you’ve expressed interest in talking to other species before, at least.”

“Well of course I’d _like_ to,” says Feferi, shrugging.  “But it’s not like we have anything to send the messages _to_.  I mean, usually there’s something for a PM to go towards, right?  It goes along with your address?  I think it’s called your…signature of existence or something.”

“Yeah, and if we could reach the humans to _ask_ them for theirs, we wouldn’t have this problem, so we’re sitting on our own hands again, “ says Karkat.  “I mean.  Fucking _again_.  Every single suggestion so far has just led to—“

“Wait.”

“—further dumbfuckery and—what?”

“Something for the PM to go towards,” says Sollux, staring at Feferi.  “But it doesn’t have to be their signature, it just needs to be…something.”

Eridan narrows his eyes.  “What the hell are you goin’ on about, Sol?”

“Well, you can tell a PM to lock on to someone’s magia signature, right?”

There’s a general rustle of assent.

“ _So_ ,” says Sollux, in that maddeningly superior way that is only a fraction of what has given him a reputation as a wanton pitch-flirter, “if we tell it to lock on to the magia of someone who’s missng theirs, it should go to whoever has it.”

“And we can track them?” asks Karkat, a bloodthirsty gleam in his eyes.

“Not unless they’re just incredibly fucking careless with their reply.  PMs were _designed_ not to be trackable,” says Sollux, and then breathes out heavily through his nose as though all this talking has significantly wearied him.  “…Seriously, though, you guys do whatever the fuck you want.  Me and FF and ED are going to get actual shit done.”

“ _I_ might want to send a message, actually,” says Eridan, who looks like he’s set on being peeved for as long as he possibly can.  “They only almost ruined my life.”

“I’m sure we can just talk it out with them!” says Feferi, although she looks a little worried.  “It might even be fun!  But Sollux is right, it is _much_ more important that we find out where the demons went…  If they’re separated, they’ll be much more dangerous than the humans.”

“Are they?” says Kanaya, looking slightly nervous.

“The black one’s a virus.  They made it so it’ll stop at nothing to get answers.  But the white one is supposed to stop it from doing anything unethical.  It was a given that they wouldn’t have come back after the circle was broken because we’d lost control over them, but I still want to find out where they are and what they’re doing.  Maybe even put them down the same way we summoned them, gods know how…  But it’s seriously kind of fucking important.”

“Are you joking?” snaps Karkat.  “Those soft pink bastards are obviously out to destroy troll society and it’s our job to take some sorry motherfuckers down!  You guys go on your stray dog hunt, the rest of us will deal with the real threat here.”

“Fucking hells,” Sollux groans, and nods at the other two.  “I’m heading to the archive.  Are you guys coming?”

Shortly thereafter, the three of them are on their feet and saying hasty goodbyes to Kanaya and Karkat.  Karkat just grunts, digging in his storage deck for an .ex file as Feferi and his roommates walk by.

“Karkat, wait,” says Kanaya hurriedly as Karkat opens his PM with righteous fury in his eyes.

His eyes flash up towards her under furrowed brows.  “Huh?  Why?”

“Because…well, I think we should wait until tonight.  This problem belongs to all of us!  You can’t just send a message without consulting everyone else.”

“Those three don’t seem to care!” Karkat protests, waving a hand in the direction of the door.  Sollux flashes him a rude hand gesture before closing it

“No, but everyone else _will_ ,” says Kanaya in her most businesslike voice.  “Now go do something constructive, like…”  She brightens.  “Meditation!”

Karkat stares.  Then he sighs angrily, deep in his throat, and closes the .ex file.  “I’ll wait.  But I’m not going to _meditate_.”

Kanaya’s head throbs and she thinks, _Maybe not, but I think I will._

It’s not as though she really even _wants_ everyone to be there.  She’s half-hoping Vriska has already left on whatever insane self-assigned mission she was planning last night, just so that they won’t have to be in the same room again.

But knowing Vriska, if she’s still in the city she won’t pass up a chance for another argument.

In the end, there still seems no better place to meet than the old hive where it all started, where Karkat and Sollux are squabbling over one rather confused-looking PM as they try to sort out the tracking mechanism.  Kanaya takes her seat and waits with her patience wearing thinner than ever.  It’s midnight when Vriska enters, showing no signs of discomfort or indeed any sign that last night’s fight took place.  Kanaya ignores her completely.

A while ago, she would have let her mind wander down paths usually associated with the quadrant they shared—wondering what was actually going on in Vriska’s head, how to get her to talk about it, what to say to improve her state of mind.

But she never wanted to be in that quadrant with anyway, and, well…now all of that is ruined.

She’s glad when the rest of the group starts to show up in twos and threes—Gamzee is absent, but Karkat says with his usual tone of affectionate disgust that the dumbass clown wouldn’t have anything constructive to add.  Anyway, he’s working.

The setup takes much longer than anticipated, and in the interim at least five different conversations spring up around the room, hushed at first but gaining volume and ire as quickly as only troll conversations can.  The sky outside is growing light by the time Sollux and Karkat get the PM sorted out and the crowd finally goes quiet to listen to their arguing instead.

“There,” says Sollux, “We’ve got it set to find Tavros’s magia specifically.   _Finally_.”

“Hey, don’t take that tone of voice,” Karkat snaps.  “I was the one who figured out how to specify a single mage!”

“Yeah, you’re really fantastic and you should be proud of yourself,” Sollux deadpans.  “Now shut up and let’s figure out what we want to say, alright?”

\--

The PM appears on the window sill in the early hours of the morning.  She’s one of the most commonly used sprites, glossy and smoothly mechanical.  This one is somewhat taller than the squat black WV, with a pastel clothes case installed in place of the default gray.

All four travelers are awake, but Rose has the most energy of the four and is therefore the one who stands up to handle the message.  She shuts her book with a sigh, walks over to open the window, and addresses the little white figure.

“Display message.”

There’s silence for a while—the other three are occupied with their own business and don’t think much

“They’ve…they’ve contacted _us_.”

“What?”

“The trolls,” says Rose.  “This message says they sent it by telling the PM to lock onto the magia signatures of their friends.”

“What?” says Dave again, sounding considerably more alarmed as he sits upright.  “Doesn’t that mean they can find us?”

“PMs can’t be traced or magically located,” says John.  “I used to do some programming stuff back in the day, and you pick up some stuff like that.  They may be able to send this stuff to us but there’s a function the programmers built into it right at the start that says you can’t use it to track people.  They thought that would be really...”

“Unethical?” Rose suggests, still looking critically down at the troll message.

“Sure?”

“Hm.  Why don’t the rest of you come and look at this?”

“Why don’t you read it aloud?” Jade asks, vaulting over a counter and into the main room with a mucus-slathered grubloaf in one hand.  John mouths “ew” at Dave, nodding in the direction of the troll snack.  Dave nods almost imperceptibly.

“Well, it’s true there isn’t that much to read,” says Rose.  “…I’ll sum up.  They sent the message via the signatures of their friends’ magia, as I said.  The rest of it boils down to a demand to know what our motives are.”

“Just tell them it was an accident and we want to talk it out,” Jade suggests.  “It’s not like we have anything to lose.”

Rose looks somewhat skeptical, but dictates the message to PM and sends it.

The wait is longer than expected.  After a while, Dave wonders aloud whether whoever’s on the other end intends to answer at all.  The PM does eventually return, however, bearing a message that first apears to be blank.  But then  more text starts to appear on the PM’s screen, columns of gray Alternian script converting themselves to human letters as they appear.  The humans stare in mounting horror as paragraph after paragraph unfolds.

\--

“Uh,” says Tavros blankly over the sound of Karkat dictating a long-distance reply to the PM, “isn’t anyone going to stop him?”

“I thought you were just as mad at the humans as he is!” says Aradia, raising her eyebrows.  “Just playing devil’s advocate.”

Tavros gives her a rather melancholy glare.  “Well, yes, but…that is most definitely, not what I would probably say.”

Aradia tilts her head back and forth thoughtfully.  “Yes, I think you’re probably right about that.  No one issues an ultimatum quite like Karkat!”

“It’s not supposed to be an ultimatum!” moans Kanaya, pulling at Karkat’s arm.  “Karkat, this is intolerable!  What do you think you’re doing?”

“Aradia, can’t you use your psionics to, um, perhaps pull him away from the PM before he sends—“

“I think it’s sending in live time,” says Aradia, “so I don’t think it would help much!  Anyway, I’m not particularly invested in the outcome of this whole mess.”

“ _I_ am!” says Tavros, injured.

“Oh.”  Aradia’s smile falls slightly.  “…I didn’t really think of that.  I’m sorry, Tavros.  But I’m sure it’ll all be okay in the end!  Not that I know anything about the future anymore, which is pretty great!”

“Well,” says Tavros as the echoes die away, “…he’s done now.”

\--

In its entirety, the message reads:

_“HERE IS WHAT I HAVE TO SAY IN RESPONSE TO YOUR SOFT, REPULSIVE HUMAN REQUEST FOR ‘PEACEFUL NEGOTIATIONS’:_

_FUCK.  YOU._

_FUCK ALL OF YOU FECULENT SHITMAGGOTS AND THE WINDOW YOU FELL IN THROUGH.  FUCK YOU FOR KNOCKING DOWN EVERY BALANCE CLUB IN THE BRAWLING ALLEY THAT IS MY LIFE.  GOOD JOB, YOU GET ALL THE POINTS!  EXCEPT THE POINTS ARE RIGHTEOUS FURY POINTS.  FROM ME.  AND YOU’RE LOSING THE GAME._

_YOU RUINED AN IMPORTANT SPELL, STOLE ***TROLL*** MAGIA FROM THE PEOPLE USING IT, AND MADE ENEMIES OF THE TWELVE MOST ACCOMPLISHED MAGES IN THIS CITY.  GOOD LUCK TRYING TO RUN, BITCHES, BECAUSE WE WILL FIND YOU.  AND WHEN WE DO, YOU’RE GOING TO FUCKING PAY FOR EVERYTHING YOU’VE DONE.  ENJOY THOSE POWERS WHILE YOU CAN, ROTWADS, BECAUSE WE.  ARE.  COMING FOR YOU!_

_CHEW ON THAT FOR A WHILE.  LET THE TASTE OF PURE TERROR SINK INTO YOUR HUMAN FLAVOR ORGANS.  SAVOR ITS PIQUANCY!  ANTICIPATE THE SEASONING OF BLOOD THAT IS SURE TO FOLLOW IN NO SHORT ORDER.  I LOOK FORWARD TO MEETING YOU, HUMANS.  I LOOK FORWARD TO THE SWEET REVENGE THAT IS SURE TO ACCOMPANY THAT MEETING.  YOU’RE ON THE TOP OF MY SHIT LIST AND FOR REFERENCE, IT’S LONGER THAN THE RIVERS OF WEAK HUMAN TEARS YOU’RE GOING TO WEEP BEFORE I’M DONE WITH YOU._

_FUCK YOU ALL!_

_-KARKAT VANTAS_

“Gods,” says Dave softly.  “No negotiations, then?”

“I think not,” says Rose.

“Should we get back to them on that?” asks Jade, frowning at the PM.  “They’re probably expecting a reply!”

“No, they must know we’re going to leave forthwith,” says Rose, who’s already striding purposefully towards her pile of belongings in the corner of the room.  “Who would stay where they were after receiving a message like that?”

“Then there’s no harm in telling them we’ve decided to run off!” says John cheerfully, and holds one hand out to the PM.  She hops obediently onto it, awaiting instructions.

“John, I _forbid_ you from goading them!” Rose calls, glancing sternly back at him.

“Please?”

“No!”

“Just a little goading.  It will hardly be a goad at all.  Just a little teasing!”

“That didn’t seem like the kind of troll who takes well to being _teased_ ,” Rose sighs.  Then, furrowing her brow at John’s pathetic, exaggeratedly pleading expression, she adds, “Alright, but just a little bit.”

“Great!  PM, new message: _catch us if you can!_ And put a smiling sigil after it, please!  Thank you.  Alright, that’s all.  Send!”

“Simple, yet effective,” says Dave approvingly.  “I bet you the guy on the other end is tearing his hair out right now.”

“You don’t know it’s a he,” Jade pipes up.  “And don’t you tell me it has to be just because it’s really angry!”

Dave shrugs.  “That’s not why.  I just got a feeling.  Now are we all getting packed and running like hell?  Is that what’s happening now?”

“That is definitely what’s happening now!” says Jade, giggling.  “John, you can keep an eye out for a reply while we’re on the run, come on!”

“But I really want to know!” John says with exaggerated petulance.

Rose kneels gracefully so that she’s on eye-level with him and says, “I _will_ pull you by the ear all the way if I have to.  We need to leave this place immediately, so pack your storage deck.”

With only a little more grumbling, the four travelers prepare to leave the city.

Ten minutes later, as they walk out the door and head with purpose towards the nearest city gate, Rose glances at John and says, sharply, “Put a shirt on, John.”

“What?  Why?  I know trolls think it makes me a pervert or whatever, but--”

“Yes, and you’ve got a great big blue tattoo across your chest that might get us noticed!” says Jade impatiently.  “Come on, John, think of it like wearing a disguise!”

John grumbles, but after some digging in his storage deck he pulls out a ratty old white shirt with one missing sleeve and what looks like oil spattered across the front.  “Don’t ask,” he says as Dave raises his eyebrows.  “Alright, I’m decent!  Can we go now?”

Above them, a troll with bare feet and gray face paint stops watching them long enough to take a running jump across the street, whirling through the air until he lands with a neat roll on the opposing hivetop.  He glances back down at them, frowns for a moment, and then shrugs and keeps running, his bag of deliveries bouncing on his back.

Gamzee feels like there was something important he was supposed to do and he just missed his chance to do it.


	2. In Which Leave is Taken, Secrets are Kept, and Great Use of Smoke Bombs is Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trolls continue to argue, each thinking they know the best course of action, and Sollux has a terrible realization. Jade, Karkat, and Vriska talk to their Wiser Selves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, while still pretty long, is significantly shorter than the first. I really thought they'd been divided pretty evenly, but apparently not! That's alright, though, it's not like it's bothering me. Much.

Karkat stares down at the screen in silence.  It is not a peaceful silence.  His hair is practically standing on end.  His eyes are wide open and his teeth are bared in pure outrage.  When he does make noise, it comes out in little half-syllables, as though he can’t decide what profanity to use.

Everyone else gets there first.

“Karkat!” says Kanaya, her voice trembling, her eyes blazing, “ _What_ have you _done_?”

“Welp, there’s that course of action severely _fucked over_ ,” says Vriska with exaggerated cheer. “Anyone going to listen to me now?”

“KK, you dumb tool!”

“Regardless of troll superiority to humans, your actions were inexcusable.”

The clamor continues for a while, and Karkat does nothing to improve it by shouting rebuttals at whomever he can hear best over the din.  Eventually, though, his throat gives out on a particularly indignant rant directed at Eridan, and while he coughs the rest of them settle into belligerent silence.

“We should send another message,” says Feferi, although she sounds a little uncertain.

“I don’t think that would help,” says Terezi gravely.  “Words have become obsolete and action is our only recourse.  We should organize and—“

“Fat chance,” mutters Vriska, and then glares around as the uproar starts again.

“Are we seriously going to have this fight _again_?”

“Who said you could be leader, Terezi?”

“Who said _you_ could?  I mean really, your people skills are terrible, not to mention how questionable your actual plans are!”

“I, uh, don’t mind too much—“

“Oh, who asked you, _cripple_?”

“Vriska, if you keep calling him that we can always have a repeat of five sweeps ago…Remember, I don’t need my magia to make some _friends_ visit you.”

“ _Gods_ , Aradia, overreacting much?”

“I don’t see what the problem is with sending more messages to the humans, even if they don’t answer!”

“Not that I give a fuck, but I can set anyone’s PM with the magia-seeking function we used--”

“You’ll do no such thing, Captor!  Nepeta, I forbid such a course of action.”

“Oh, you _would_!  Why not have a little fun with it?”

“Because they are unpredictable and strange,” says Kanaya, who has the most experience with humans from sweeps of dress-buying.  “Since they won’t react the way we would expect other trolls to, interactions with them must be _carefully planned_.”  On these last two deliberately-spoken words, her gaze turns to Karkat, who colors.

And that would have been the end of it if everyone weren’t so intolerably contentious.  Vriska, Terezi, and Equius all think they should hunt the humans down, but each of them has a different idea of how it should be done and how the strangers’ transgressions should be handled.

Eridan, Feferi, and Sollux, meanwhile, seem prepared to focus all their efforts on finding the demons because, according to Sollux, it doesn’t matter whether they get their magia back by some miracle if the most terrifying virus in the history of technolurgy comes back to bite them.

Kanaya and Nepeta both want to contact the humans again, but while Kanaya’s concerns are mainly focused on peaceful closure to the difficult situation, Nepeta seems only to want to sate her curiosity.

And while Aradia seems perfectly happy to let events unfold, Karkat and Tavros stew in impotence—Karkat because no one will listen to him, and Tavros because he finds himself once again unable to contribute, whether by word or deed.

Really, Kanaya thinks as groups begin to filter out, it was probably folly anyway, attempting to unite a group of twelve trolls.  She follows Tavros and Aradia out at a comfortable distance,  modestly averting her eyes from Aradia’s hand on Tavros’s back.

When everyone is gone, Karkat sits alone in the darkness and waits for the Signless.

It doesn’t take long.  A breath, a whisper of spicy warm wind, and the gray-cloaked figure of his Wiser Self fades into existence—or at least, into view--on his right.  Like all trolls’ Wiser Selves, he bears a certain resemblance to his physical counterpart, but he’s taller and thinner than Karkat, and looks much older, especially at times like this.

By all rights, the Signless should glow the color of Karkat’s blood, but he doesn’t.  And Karkat suspects strongly this is due to his own choice to hide his genetically-aberrant blood color.  The Signless hasn’t always been this quiet and gray.  No, it’s just that suppressing your magia for eight sweeps can have very adverse effects on its manifestation.

In the end, it’s just another thing differentiating Karkat from the rest of society.

“So,” he says hoarsely, “you’re probably burning up.”

The Signless nods.  His angular, worn face is tense and the little grooves between his eyebrows and at the corner of his mouth are more pronounced than usual.  There’s a red light in the back of his eyes, flickering like hellfire at the bottom of a pit.

Karkat growl-sighs into the silence.  “…Alright.  You can let it go.”

\--

Equius Zahhak is angry.

He spends a lot of his time being angry, although less than he used to before…  Well.  Before Nepeta.

His hive, one of the expansive, multi-level highblood mansions near the center of the city, has become terribly messy of late without his noticing.  What with the pieces of dismembered robots, abandoned literature, and discarded, sweat-stained clothes scattered over the floor, finding and packing the necessities is taking much longer than expected.

He considers, roughly shoving a hydration pod into his storage deck, that he might be much angrier again, should he set out alone.  Well, that’s just a risk he’ll have to take.  He won’t let anyone come with him, not even quadrantmates.  Or, at any rate, the _one_ he has.

“Equius?”

His thoracic column freezes.  How long has she been standing there?  What excuse can he possibly use?  Why, at this time of all times, does he have to sweat so darn much?   _Why do all his towels already have to be packed?!_

“Nepeta,” he says, turning mechanically around. “How are you?  I thought you were going to be spending days awake this week.”

“Couldn’t sleep!” she says cheerfully, looking him up and down.  “With good reason, looks like…”  She pads over, bouncing a little on the balls of her feet as she moves.  Equius doesn’t think he’s ever seen her both awake and tired; she sleeps soundly and spends her waking hours in perfect alertness.

And that, combined with her boundless curiosity, means that she’ll probably uncover his hidden intentions within the next couple of minutes.  There’s nothing for it but to tell her for her own good that she is not to accompany him.

“Nepeta, I am leaving to find these humans and offer them violence if need be.  It would be intolerably dishonorable to let them go free and—“

“Great, I’ll come with you!”

“ _Nepeta._ ”

“You aren’t telling me you think you’d be able to make it on your own, running around outside city limits!  You’d probably end up punching some poor human for swearing, and _then_ where would you be?”

“I would be one hundred percent fine,” says Equius, lying with impenetrable certainty.

Nepeta will have none of it.  Despite living elsewhere, she spends enough time in Equius’s hive to treat it like her own, and she vaults easily over one of his tables, landing with narrowed eyes fixed on him.  “You haven’t even remembered to pack some sopor and some sponge stickers to apply it, have you?”

“Uh.  Maybe.”

“Well, here, take these!  No guarantee of a recuperacoon on the road, right?”

“Well, no, but—“

“So we’ll take that—do you have money on you?”

“Not _yet_ —“

“Alright, then we’ll need more than pocket change caegars—“

“Nepeta, I will not allow you to come with me and that is final!  You will stay here.”

She stops and stares at him, olive-green eyes wide with mild interest.  “…No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Confound it, Nepeta, how many times have we had this conversation?”

“The one where we go yes-no-yes-no a bunch of times?”  She frowns.  “I dunno, we do that a lot.”

“No, not that one!  The one where I tell you not to do something very dangerous and you stubbornly refuse to listen to me!  Nepeta, this is too dangerous.”

“That’s basically the same conversation!  Also, you don’t know that and anyway I can kill big animals with my bare hands!”

“That is true, “ Equius says, barely moving his lips, loathe to show any sign of concession.

“And besides,” she says, hopping back over the table to face him, “do you know how worried I would be about _you_ out on your own like that?  If we stick together you’ll be able to keep an eye on me and _I_ can keep an eye on _you_.”

Equius can feel his jaw and shoulders tightening with frustration, the usual signs of an oncoming wave of rage.  “Nepeta…”

A callused, no-nonsense hand comes into firm contact with his cheek with a _pap_ noise—the conventional gesture of pale affection.  Her blood, warmer in color and temperature, is hot through her skin.  Equius closes his eyes and focuses on the warmth.

“Shoosh,” she says.  “I’m not letting you go off alone!  We’ll be fine.  Come on, what are we?”

“We are… _strong_ ,” he says, reluctant but still putting his usual emphasis into the word—savoring the S, hitting the T like a gunshot, and growling through the R into a round, enunciated ONG.

Nepeta smiles, all razor-sharp teeth and chapped black lips.  “Right!  I love the way you say that!  Now let’s get packed.”

\--

Vriska loves wearing her blood color, but matte black skin suits are just as appealing, especially in some circumstances.

For instance, secret nighttime heists.

It’s easy enough to climb over the university walls, and once Vriska’s inside it’s a minute’s work to find the storage hive where magical supplies are kept.  She’d known when Eridan mentioned where he was getting the ingredients for the spell that it would be useful knowledge, but she hadn’t foreseen needing it this soon.

She’s always been a skilled lockpick, even back when she and Terezi were still playing gamblignants and legislacerators as wigglers (she took her role as a criminal just as seriously as Terezi took hers as a lawkeeper).  The storage hive has some tricky rejection spells on it, but that’s just another kind of lockpicking.  It gives after she scrawls a few counter marks on the door, and she slips inside.

So…what to take?

There are a few cards with spells written on them, or codes of .ex files usually reserved for faculty or graduates.  Vriska grabs a few of each, plus a magia-boosting drink just in case she finds some way to get her talents back.

She shoves it all in her storage deck and then slips back out, darting pools of light from glowspheres and lit windows, sure-footed even in the dark.  She’s almost reached the cluster of trees by the wall she climbed in over when she hears a very familiar voice ring out behind her.

“Hey!”

“ _Shit_.”  Vriska dives for the bushes and rolls to her feet under their cover, taking stock of her surroundings.  Beyond their leaves she can see Terezi approaching, dressed in her favorite white suit.  The red lining of the tails flashes in the crosses of light cast on the lawnring by the university archive’s windows.

“Eridan told me you might be here,” says Terezi loudly.  “Why don’t you just…come out with your fronds up and we’ll talk about this?”  She likes to think she’s not naturally dramatic, but Vriska knows for a fact half of her lines come from her favorite law and order shows.  

Vriska focuses for a moment.  Already it’s taking longer for Mindfang to appear when she’s summoned.

 _Hello again,_ says the faint cerulean silhouette.   _What is it now?_

_Minimal cover, at least eight feet of wall above me to scale, and she’ll be watching—well, sniffing for me.  If I jump up there now, she’ll throw that sword of hers, I’ve fucking seen her do it…_

“Vriska?”

Vriska holds her breath.  Next to her, Mindfang says, _Ah…it’s the little legislacerator barkbeast.  You see…I did tell you that she would try to stop you._

 _Like she could,_ Vriska thinks at her.   _Anyway, it’s not like I’m going after the black demon…_ yet _.  Just a bunch of stupid little human babies._

“Vriska, I know you are there.  I can smell you.”

_Bullshit, even she can’t spot the difference between the black I’m wearing and the shadows!_

“You reek of underhandedness,” says Terezi conversationally.  “Did you know deceit has a smell?”

Such _bullshit!_ Vriska thinks again, and bites her lip to keep herself from saying anything.

 _I’m amused that you would waste your time on vulgar retorts when your focus should be on making your exit,_ says Mindfang lazily, apparently amused by her mage’s internal struggle.

 _Keep making comments like that and I’m going to just give up on getting our phosmagia back and let you fade!_ Vriska retorts, her bilesac twisting at the knowing laugh she gets in return.

 _As if you could do_ anything _without me,_ says Mindfang lazily.   _You can’t even summon the determination to do what’s necessary here, even though you_ long ago _lost your chance to be her friend or...anything else._

 _Shut up!_ thinks Vriska as loudly as she can, but as she leans towards her Wiser Self the leaves around her rustle--softly, but surely loudly enough to alert Terezi.  Biting her lip, she wonders how quickly she can climb the wall and get out.  If she breaks cover and runs, Terezi is sure to give chase.

Then again, she’s probably coming anyway.

“I heard that!” says Terezi, her voice a wheedling sing-song.  “Come out with your hands up, Marquise!  We can work _together_ on this!”

There’s a long, long moment of silence.  Vriska’s hand goes to the pendant hanging from her neck.  A tiny drop of cerulean blood rolls down her chin from where the point of one fang has pierced her lip.

Mindfang stares at her.   _Oh…please_ don’t _tell me that you’re actually considering the offer._

 _I…_ thinks Vriska, lost for a moment

_My protégée, I have a way for you to get out of this situation.  What do you think?  Would you rather lose your magia or wound her pride?_

_She was my best enemy,_ Vriska thinks before she can stop herself.

Was!   _That is exactly my point!  Throw the coin as a distraction, and then make your escape.  You know you have the speed to do so, and it would be impossible for her to track you effectively in this darkness._

“I can see where your choice will lead,” says Terezi, and her voice has lost all its dangerous playfulness of a moment before.  It’s flat and heavy with her belief in its veracity.  “It ends in all of us dying.  I _will_ say Redglare’s name!  I’ll do it!  Don’t fight me, Vriska!”

_The coin, Vriska!_

Terezi catches the cold, sour scent of a metallic gleam in the darkness and lunges for it, reaching for the strife deck where her weapons are kept.  But there’s no sword to encounter, no wiry muscle to test her strength again.  Instead, just something small and gray, smelling like icy pavement.  She picks it up, sniffs it, and lets her face harden over the emotions stirring in her chest.

When she looks up, she can tell the trees are empty.  Vriska is gone.

“I’ll stop you,” says Terezi to the shadows.  “I _will_ hunt you down, _scourge sister_.”  She reaches up to her throat, where a blue, eight-sided gem hangs from a cord.  She clenches it in one fist and lifts it violently as though preparing to rip it from her neck, but stops cold, still staring unseeingly into the darkness.

Then she lets her hand drop, tucks the coin into a red-lined pocket of her immaculate white suit, and stalks back inside to make her plans.

\--

In the gray morning, Karkat blinks awake from a nightmare.  He can’t remember exactly what it was about, but the residual fear making his thoracic column burn is enough.  So he’s…not in his sopor.  He didn’t get back to the hive last night?  Gods, what happened, why is he--

Of course.

The Sufferer.

The floor of the storage hive is hard and cold and his mouth tastes of blood.  When he tries to inhale through his nose, nothing happens.  Karkat, who felt terrible enough the first time he woke up on the floor of the abandoned place, thinks sourly that experiencing it again is more than he’d ever bargained for or, in fact, wanted.

He blows his nose, one snuff canal at a time, until the clotted candy-red blood is mostly evacuated, then stands.  Every vein aches; every artery throbs; his bloodpusher feels like someone stomped on it repeatedly.  He pulls a mirror out of the air where the alterdimensional pocket of his storage deck opens up and examines his face—the bloodshot eyes, the scarlet crust around his nostrils, the tiny lacerations at the corners of his mouth…

Sometimes he thinks he ought to tell someone about the Sufferer.  In fact, by not telling one person in particular he’s essentially betrayed one of the most fundamental principles of moiraillegiance: no secrets.

“Brother?”

…And speak of the crazy clown-ass sap.  Karkat turns around, meeting Gamzee’s eyes with a belligerent gray glare.  If it’s Gamzee, he might not necessarily ask the obvious questions, but there’s always the chance…

“What’re you doin’ in here, brother?”

And there it is.

“Fell asleep here last night after the meeting,” says Karkat shortly, turning his head up and up as Gamzee comes closer.  “Augh, fuck, you’re too tall.  Looking at you makes my neck hurt.”

“Well, sorry ‘bout that, but--you all to bein’ okay, then?  Y’look—“

“Nosebleed.”  Karkat scrubs at his face with one coarse shirtsleeve.  “You remember I get those, right?  Just happens sometimes.”

“…Well yeah, but—“

“Did you come here to find me?”

Distracted by the question, Gamzee nods, the bundle of thick dark curls on the back of his head bobbing with the movement.  “We got four motherfuckers gone out, Karkat!  Terezi and her killsister, and Equius and Nepeta.  They done run out and I think they…well, I think I all and told ‘em…”

“Told them what?” asks Karkat sharply, easily recognizing the squinty expression of guilt on Gamzee’s face.

“Weeeellll…”

“Well?”

Gamzee grunts and rolls his shoulders awkwardly.  “I did saw a soft human motherfucker or four last night on my routes, only remembered so much as to mention it to Nepeta and her palemate, and didn’t realize ‘till they mentioned that it might be…”

“Might be the humans we’re _after_?” asks Karkat, incredulous.  “And you didn’t—you weren’t even--!”

“Hey now,” says Gamzee, putting a broad, bony hand on his head.  Karkat snorts and wheezes through his nose, eventually calming down enough to breathe normally.

“…So tell me what direction the humans were going in,” he growls.  “And anything else you can remember!  And whoever’s still here can help me figure out where they’re going and what in the names of all six hells they want.   _I’m_ not done sending messages yet.”

“You’re ain’t gonna all and go on up out after ‘em too?” says Gamzee, blinking owlishly.

Karkat pinches the bridge of his nose, trying not to think too hard about the string of mismatched prepositions, and manages, “...No.  Someone has to stay here and keep the rest of you in line.  Maybe Equius and Nepeta will actually manage it, and, ha, maybe Vriska might even bring some of them back ali--no fuck it, I can’t say that and keep a straight face.  The point is, I’d be worth fuck-all out there with those psychos.”

Gamzee grins soppily down at him and says, “I like you better here too, brother,” and Karkat’s bloodpusher flips, partially with pale affection but mostly...mostly with a fresh stab of guilt.

“Come on,” he says shortly, rolling his eyes, “let’s go get something to eat.  I’m fucking starving.”

\--

“I can’t believe I forgot to suggest we pack food,” says Rose, and.  “Jade, didn’t you say we’re en route to a human town where we can spend the night?  Couldn’t we wait to have a late lunch there instead of foraging out here?”

Jade nods.  “Absolutely!  But we’ll only reach it by nightfall so it would be a very, very late lunch.  So hunting and gathering is our best option right now!  I mean, unless you want some of the grubloaf I packed…”

“That won’t be necessary,” says Rose immediately.  “But when we do end up back in civilization again we’re going to have to restock on real food.”

“Fish is real food!” John objects.  “When it’s cooked, anyway.”

“And sometimes when it’s not,” Dave adds, and smiles faintly as the rest of them make noises of curiosity and disgust—or rather, Rose and John do, respectively.

Once she’s finished laughing at John’s _ew-raw-fish-ew_ grimace, Rose glances at Jade.  “Usually you would have had a hundred question about that vague and teasing statement.  What’s wrong?”

“We spent so long getting to a troll town and now we’re leaving it,” says Jade, and sighs with exaggerated melancholy.  “I didn’t even really get to _meet_ a troll!  And jumping through a window into the middle of a fancy troll spell does _not_ count, don’t even suggest it!”

“Wasn’t going to,” says John loftily.  Jade elbows him playfully in arm, making him wince and gasp.

They stop by a stream flowing over smooth brown rocks.  Jade manages to pin a duck with a crossbow quarrel, but it’s a small bird and there are plenty of fish in the river for catching.  

“Are you sure you don’t have a rod and hook somewhere in your storage deck?” asks Dave, watching Jade roll up her pants.  “I mean, trout tickling is a fucking hilarious name for a thing to have, but it doesn’t sound crazy effective.”

“If it were deeper, maybe I would go line fishing,” says Jade, coiling her hair into a tight, messy bun at the base of her skull.  “And I think this little stream does flow into the big river later on--you’ll see it when we reach the town--but that might not be the place for line fishing either...too many barges, too many people!”

“So, can I help?” says Dave, raising his eyebrows.

“What?  Um, well.  Dave.  I know you mean well, but…”

“Aw, come on, Harley!  Let me spit out my silver spoon for once and be a productive member of society!”

She does eventually cave and allow Dave to help her, though only under the condition that he stay downstream from her.  His methods are less...subtle than hers, and she doesn’t want any fish coming her way to be fish scared by a madman with a sword.

The activity is almost meditative; Jade crouches next to a large, overhanging rock, her hands tucked underneath it to cup around the fish hiding below it.  It’s a slow process, requiring more patience than she’s usually able to summon.  Jade wishes fervently that there were a quicker way to hypnotize trout, or in lieu of that, that she had someone to help.  Help, she clarifies mentally, from someone not Dave.

By this time the fish seems suitably still and calm, and she smiles as her fingers close around it.  That’s one!  She straightens up, hypnotized trout in hand, and finds her faces inches from the one she saw a day ago in her fever dreams.

 _Hello,_ says the boy cheerfully, _I think my name’s Jake!  It’s good to talk to you again!_

The fish slips between her fingers.  Jade stares at the boy, who’s standing knee-deep in the river without so much as a hint of a ripple around his bare legs, then glances at her friends, who don’t seem to have noticed a thing.

“Come on, Harley!” calls Dave, who’s on his stomach by the water with a sword in one hand.  “I can’t catch dinner alone!”

“Uh,” says Jade, looking back at the boy--Jake.  “…Working on it!”

 _Golly gee, what a lovely day!_ says the boy, in a voice that seems only partially to present itself to her ears, mainly skipping them and going straight to her brain.  She files this away as something to ask about later, and decides to test whether she can talk into his head as well.

 _Where did you come from?_ she thinks as hard as she can, and is delighted to see him blink and frown.

 _From you, I think.  I feel like I’m supposed to help you out, but blast if I can remember why.  I_ do _remember some things, but they’re really only about you!  I feel like I know you very well, you see, except I only really started_ being _a couple of days ago._

“When I had the fever?” says Jade softly, testing verbal communication now.  He nods.

_I have to say, I was pretty worried there for a while!  I wanted to take care of you, but I couldn’t help…_

“Fascinating,” Jade breathes.  By now she’s completely forgotten about the trout, instead pacing around Jake and looking him up and down.  He’s wearing a white shirt, its sleeves rolled up to the elbows to expose forearms covered in interweaving bands of green ink.  His brown pants come up to just below the knee, and despite only existing without any inherent physicality, the hems of said pants are stained and torn.

“You go barefoot,” Jade observes.  “Just like John and m—“

“Jade, what are you doing over there?  Rose is getting hungry and you know what she’s like when she’s hungry.”

“Just studying the river!” Jade calls without missing a beat, then turns back to Jake.

 _Out of curiosity,_ she thinks, _is there any rhyme or reason to how you appear and disappear?_

 _Oh, well…when I wasn’t out here, I think I was…part of you.  But not in a creepy way!_ He hastens to reassure her.  Jade, who hadn’t been terribly bothered anyway, notes that his teeth are like hers--large and gappy in the front.   _I just sort of…become you, in a way.  But sleeping!  It was nice and I shouldn’t think I’d mind if you tucked me away again._ He gives her a rather worried smile as she ducks down to check under another rock for another trout.

 _I can try it later,_ she thinks, trying to put reassuring feelings into the words.   _Even if you’re okay with it, I think you should enjoy the world as yourself!  That’s what I’d prefer._

_Well, if you put it like that, I can hardly argue!  Perhaps you could see your way to explaining what you’re doing here?_

Explaining trout tickling to Jake (among many other things, as his questions are numerous) makes the activity pass by much faster, and after another half-hour they have four fat trout ready to cook, as well as a mallard brought down by John’s commendable skill with a sling.  Bird and fish, seasoned with the famous Egbert herbs--courtesy of John’s father--crackle over the fire on spits while Jade washes blood and scales off of her hands in the river.

Jake seems less talkative now, and after a moment’s mental conversation to make sure he’s alright, Jade tests her ability to send him away—or bring him back inside, perhaps.  It’s surprisingly easy, like there’s a notch for him in her mind that she didn’t know existed until now, and he fits perfectly there.

She’s already opening her mouth to tell the rest of the group about Jake when she realizes abruptly that she hadn’t actually asked Jake for his permission to do so.  Impatient but determined to wait for his word on it, she settles down to eat lunch.

For all that they didn’t get to stay in troll territory for as long as they’d intended, everyone seems much more light-hearted now that they’ve gotten out of the little hotel room and away from whoever sent the furious gray text.  The future looks bright.

\--

“We’re fucking doomed,” says Sollux.  He’s still unsettled and belligerent after the second visit to the university archives, where the tealblood librarchivist gave him disapproving looks the whole time and actually asked Eridan and Feferi “why he was following them around”.  Eridan laughed while Feferi did some quiet explaining, and Sollux surreptitiously flipped over the man’s carefully-sorted stack of filing cards.

So now they’re back at Eridan, Sollux, and Karkat’s place, trying to find any hint of where the twin demons might have gone.  Feferi has sent at least fifty PMs in the last half-hour, Eridan has ejected almost three shelves’ worth of books from his storage deck and is flipping obsessively through them, and Sollux hasn’t looked up from his computer screen in hours.

In the busy silence of the tiny block, the coffee-making apparatus pops and bubbles.

“…What did you say?” says Feferi absently, glancing up from the latest message.

Sollux doesn’t take his eyes from the forum posts sliding past them.  “I said we’re doomed.”

“Tell me about it.  I’m not gettin’ anywhere with the history books,” Eridan growls, flipping through yet another tome.  “I mean, sure, they mention the search engine sometimes, but it’s always in a kind of _oh and then there’s this urban legend_ kind a way.  Fuckin’ ridiculous.”

“Then maybe you need books on urban legends instead of history,” Feferi chirps, opening yet another PM from one of her long-distance friends.  “…Hmmm, Nervos doesn’t know anything either.  I thought for sure someone else must have seen it!”

“The teachers _felt_ it,” says Eridan tensely.  “In class last night Schoolfeeder Zeraki said everyone on the East side of the University schoolhives felt the release of magia.  We’re just lucky it was all mixed together, or they could’ve recognized us!”

“We might not be lucky much longer if we don’t find  _something_ about how to stop the demon,” Sollux mutters, sweeping his hair out of his eyes for what must be the hundredth time.  Filaments of red and blue light have been crawling over his horns all day and all his hair is standing on end, crackling when he touches it.  “I mean, well, _stopping_ it we could do if we could just get it back in a circle and close the file, but most of the rumors say it’ll go on a nice little killing spree and then come back for us, which would be fucking great in theory if we could just get it in a circle without _dying_.  No chance.  Doomed.  Need an edge.”

“You’re gonna short out your husktop,” Eridan tells him, eyeing the colorful sparks winding over Sollux’s spiky head.  “I don’t suppose you’re planning on discharging some of that psi any time soon?”

Sollux snorts through his long nose, eyes still fixed on his screen.  “Sure, let’s take care of that now.  Just put a hand on my shoulder.”

“No!” snaps Eridan, smoothing back his own perfect coif with a self-conscious hand.  “Do you know how long it takes to get my hair like this?”

“Don’t ask me that like I care,” says Sollux, his head sinking a little lower between the hard corners of his shoulders.

It’s at this point that one rather weary-looking PM darts in through the window and opens a message in the air in front of each of them before vanishing in a flash of liquid gray.

“Must be Kar’s group messaging thing,” says Eridan, without much interest.  “Look, it’s fuckin’ gone, he must’ve ordered it not to wait for a reply!  What an asshole.  Fef, can you get it?”

“I’ve been reading PMs since last night!” says Feferi.  She stretches and yawns, showing rows of sharklike teeth.  “Sollux should get it.”

“Can’t read, too busy scrolling through bullshit .ex file downloads and ads like the trash I am,” Sollux mutters, and then squawks as Feferi grabs the back of his chair and pulls him around, nudging the message panel the PM left through the air at him.

“Go on!” she says, her usual cheer somewhat muted by fatigue and exasperation.  “And read it aloud, it’s about time you used your voice properly, you’ve hardly talked in a night and two days!”

Sollux glares for a moment, then seems to lose the willpower even for that and raises the message before his bicolored eyes.

“I’m not reading it verbatim,” he tells them, and his voice is indeed hoarse with disuse.  “But okay, what it says here is that GZ saw some humans leaving the city, probably the four that interrupted us, and he didn’t realize but he told NP and EQ, well _fuck_ —“

Eridan snorts.  “Not anythin’ to be surprised about, really.”

“Shut up.  So anyway, GZ was up on a roof so he couldn’t see much else about them except that before the half-naked asshole pulled on a shirt, it looked like he had the Breath sign on his chest.  Oh, and the one of them also had…white pointy ears on top of their head…”

Sollux trails off, staring blankly at the message.  

Eridan also stares, with rather more suspicion than wonderment.  “So is Gam on depressives again or what?  That’s what I want to know.”

“If he has one of the twelve symbols on his chest, does that mean he came here to steal magia on purpose?” asks Feferi, frowning.  “Or was it a result of getting, well, Tavros’s powers?”

“There’s no way four humans we’ve never met before could have heard about this,” says Eridan.  He rubs one of his earfins between thumb and forefinger, staring pensively into the middle distance.  “…You know, that sounds kinda like the marks we have before our bleedings.  But if Gam was able to tell, it had to have been a lot bigger…”

Sollux, his hair now crackling more violently than ever, bangs a hand on the table, making both of them jump.  “No, fuck!  You guys are missing the most important thing here, come on!”

“Enlighten us, then!” snaps Eridan.  “And you say _I_ love drama…”

“ _White ears_ ,” says Sollux feverishly, gesticulating wildly with stick-thin arms.  He looks like a frenzied scarecrow.  “Humans don’t usually have white, pointed ears on top of their heads or, I mean, anywhere for that matter!  Are your brains just waterlogged?   _Think_ about it!  We saw the black demon fly away, and I thought--I hoped I was remembering this wrong, but the white one should’ve followed and now we know it _didn’t_!”

“So?” says Eridan, whose full lips squared in a sneer of distaste at the word “waterlogged”.

“I think one of the humans _landed_ on it!  I think its code got damaged and it—it--“

“Integrated with them?” Feferi finishes for him, looking disturbed.  “That doesn’t sound good.”

“That’s an understatement—oh, I’m the worst, I’m the lowest of the fucking low—“

“That’s right, degrade everyone else and then switch and start on yourself,” says Eridan.  “Typical Sol.  So what you’re saying is, they’re separated?  They’re not supposed to be separated, are they?”

“No, they’re not,” Sollux moans, dropping back onto his chair with his head in his hands.  “Don’t you remember what I _said_?  The virus will do anything to get answers, and without its safeguard, gods only know what it’s going to do…  So guess what?”

“Don’t say it,” says Feferi warningly, narrowing her eyes.  “Negativity won’t get us anywhere!”

“I’ll say what I like and anyway it’s the fucking truth!”  Sollux glares from his matesprit to his roommate, his voice rising uncontrollably.  “We are inescapably and un-fucking-controvertibly _doomed_!”

On the final word, the stress-fueled psionic power that’s been building inside him for the past couple of nights rushes out of his body in a great, strobing flash of blue and red.  All the lights in the room cut out.

In darkness that smells of copper and smoke, Eridan says, “You fucker, you’ve ruined my hair.”

\--

Vriska has realized that she actually has no idea where the humans went.  This is an issue.  She could spend time asking around on the streets for sightings of them, but there’s no doubt Terezi will be looking for her in turn.

As luck would have it, however, Karkat proves himself useful for once.  Maybe Gamzee doesn’t remember where he saw the humans, but if they’ve left the city then someone else must have seen them pass outside of it.  So she checks around the edges, asking the guards, applying her particular persuasive methods where necessary.  And what could be a more auspicious sign than getting answers at the eighth gate?  Vriska Serket’s token number!

She sets off to the North-Northwest, her spirits higher than they have been in days.  That is, at least, until she comes across the tree.  Any ordinary traveler might not have noticed it, but then again they wouldn’t be in possession of the legendary eightfold vision.  The seven pupils in her left eye zero easily in on the deep indents in the blue bark of a nearby trunk.

It doesn’t take much further examination to recognize them as knuckle marks.  And who, with the ability to leave imprints of their fists in solid wood, might be traveling along the same road as her?

This is no coincidence.  Someone else is hunting down the humans and she knows who.  But, she thinks grimly, there is _no_ way they’re getting there before her.

Vriska breaks into a run.

\--

It’s nice to be in human society again.  It’s not quite the kind of _society_ Rose Lalonde is used to but she’s prepared to accept it.  There is food prepared by chefs (cooks, anyway) who do the gutting and skinning out of sight, a menu all of them can read, and best of all, no one looks twice at them.  The did encounter a man on their way into the town with an emphatic interest in acquiring their money--apparently piqued by Rose’s rather affluent appearance--but he was easily dissuaded.  Her needles only required a little cleaning afterwards.

Now they’re settled in a cramped stall on wooden benches, waiting for dinner to arrive.  Rose is idly observing the restaurant’s other occupants, Dave is tapping his fingers rhythmically on the table and muttering in time to the beat, Jade is doing some basic crossbow maintenance, and John is entertaining himself by scooting down in his chair to stretch his leg up under the table and tap either Jade or Dave on the shoulder with one careful toe.

This prank, which is less ostentatious than John’s usual fair, only works twice, after which Jade grabs his ankle in a vice-like grip and pulls until he’s on his back in the seat.

“And let that be a lesson to you!” she says, wagging a finger at him in mock admonition.

“Oh yes,” says John, lowering his eyebrows in exaggerated seriousness.  “Absolutely!  I’m a changed man now.  I’ve seen the error of my ways!”

Rose raises her eyebrows.  “That’s what you said a week ago after I caught you putting giggle powder in my—“

Her sentence is cut off as John dives abruptly to one side, crashing into Jade and causing her to bash one elbow on the bench.  Simultaneously, something whizzes through the air and sticks in the wall next to John’s head with a wooden _thunk_.

“Um,” he says.

“That’s an arrow,” says Dave.

“I know it’s an arrow!” John yelps, staring from the blue-fetched shaft to the rest of the room.  “Where’d it _come_ from?”

Across the crowded space, a brawny gray figure has started to bodily push people aside, manually parting the crowd.  Behind him, an almost equally broad troll is equipping two sets of wickedly sharp claws from their strife deck.  The former has one broken horn, the other whole and roughly arrow-shaped; the latter, cupped triangular horns not unlike a cat’s ears.

“He must have threaded that arrow through gaps in the crowd,” Rose observes, reaching slowly for her needles.  

“That’s what I call fuckin’ talent,” says Dave, his eyes not leaving the newcomers.  “How can you tell?”

“Because no one between him and us is dead.”

“Very nice!” says Jade, who put together her crossbow again at lightning speed and is sliding ammunition into it.  “But why would someone fire an arrow through a crowded room?  Seems pretty…grandstandy!”

“They’re getting closer,” says Dave through his teeth.  John, his back turned on the approaching trolls, seems to be trying to pull the arrow out of the wall.

“You are the— _uff_ —you are the humans who rudely disrupted our secret spellwork!” bellows the leading troll, still elbowing through the crowd.  “We will bring you to justice!”

“But not too violently!” says the one behind him, in a high-pitched voice at odds with her impressive biceps.

“Being _brought to justice_ doesn’t sound very comfortable,” Dave mutters to his companions.  “Is there any way out?”

John manages to free the arrow from the wall with a great wrench and turns back to the oncoming trolls.  “Yeah!  Through the walls or through _them_.  And even I can’t get through walls, although I’m game to try with the sledgehammer…”

“Trolls it is, then,” says Rose grimly.  “Dave, you don’t have any smoke bombs left, do you?”

“Might,” says Dave.  The trolls are level with the table now and the archer has nocked another arrow, although the other has a hand on his shoulder.  It’s a tenuous restraint, especially with so many weapons visible in the vicinity.

“A smoke bomb could’ve helped when they were further away!” Jade whispers, looking disappointed.

“Excuse me, but we would rather not be _brought to justice_ troll style,” says Rose, addressing the trolls.  Visible only to her companions, she circles one finger behind her back.  The gesture is familiar; Rose is a mistress of buying time and has frequently been pressed to do so by dire situations in the past.  Behind her, eyes start flicking around the room in search of anything that might be used as a distraction.

“Then you will be severely disappointed,” says the one with the broken horn, glaring sternly at Rose.  “Do not allow my companion’s amiable manner to fool you; we are here to deal with all four of you most unsympathetically and you will not escape this time!  My first shot was a warning; the next may land in a non-lethal but severely painful--Nepeta, please pay attention!”

“Uh,” says the short-haired one, her eyes fixed on something to the right, beyond the humans’ line of sight.  John peers out around the stall wall in time to glimpse another troll, skinny and smiling like someone with a dangerous secret.  Not a bad-looking troll, all things considered, he thinks, before Jade pulls him back inside the stall with a sharp gesture towards the bow and arrow still aimed at him.  Even as she does so, however, the arrow’s tip drops a fraction of an inch as its owner’s attention turns to the third troll.

“Serket,” says the archer, staring down his equine nose at the newcomer.  “I can’t say I’m surprised to see you here.”

“And I can’t say _I’m_ surprised to see someone trying to steal my glory!” says the other troll, grinning widely.  “I’ll be bringing the humans back with me and neither of you musclebound morons are going to stop me!”

“That’s a distraction!” Rose whispers fiercely.  “Dave, now!  And be ready to run!”

Just as the big troll turns around suspiciously, smoke blossoms thick and white into the close atmosphere.  Fortunately, it isn’t one of Dave’s smelly ones, one of which once left all of their clothes stinking of acrid chemicals for a week.  They each grab a handful of the clothing of the person in front of them, and as John brushes past a shouting, deep-voiced shape in the smokey chaos he has the presence of mind to shoulder-check the troll in the chest.

There’s a yelp and someone—it sounds like the big one’s traveling companion—shouts, “Equius!”

“Runrunrunrun!” hisses Jade in front of John, pulling him along.  “Come on, come on!”

“We need a plan,” Rose pants as they clear the doorway, smoke trailing after them into the darkness.  “We need to go somewhere we can’t be tracked, we need—“

“The boats!” says John, pulling free of Jade’s grip and looking wildly around.  “Which way’s the river?  You mentioned barges on the river!  Jade!”

“Wait!” says Dave sharply, pulling another smoke bomb from his storage deck.  Inside the tavern, there’s the sound of someone running.

Jade glares, bouncing from foot to foot like an impatient boxer.  “Dave, what the _hell_ , come on!  That’ll only make us more noticeable!”

“Not if it goes off a street away in the wrong direction and makes a big fucking stink,” says Dave, lighting the fuse.  He hurls it a commendable distance, into a narrow street across from them.  As they start running again, the telltale hissing starts behind them and the door of the tavern opens with a _bang!_

“This is all your fault, Zahhak,” says the voice of the third troll, growing fainter as they pound away from the smoke.

“ _My_ fault?!  Why, you—“

The voices turn into tinny echoes as they turn another corner and skid to a halt on the edge of the canal.  There’s a barge there, but it’s already moving.  John spares a breathless glance to either side and judges from the looks on his friends’ faces that they’re thinking the same thing he is.  Either that, or they’re resigned to the fact that he’s going to do it no matter what.

It’s not a long jump to the deck, but Dave and Rose still barely make it.  Accomplished fighters as they are, they still haven’t spent as much time running and jumping as Jade and John have.  Still, they’re on board and there’s no sign of pursuit from the road they came down.

“Yes!” shouts John, causing Rose to instantly clap a hand over his mouth.

“John,” says Jade, her voice lowered to a reproachful murmur, “you know trolls have really great hearing, right?”

John shrugs.  Rose lets go of him, sighing, and turns to the poleaxed deckhands nearby.  Their confusion is likely to metamorphose into something more aggressive as soon as they come to terms with their new passengers’ unorthodox boarding methods, so best to keep them on their toes…

“Hello,” she says, “We require transportation only to the next town.  We will stay out of your way and pay you handsomely.  Fifty silver up front, and fifty once we’ve reached our destination—possibly even a hundred, if we find the accommodations pleasing.  Thank you in advance for your cooperation.”

\--

The humans have vanished without a trace and with the sour smoke still hanging in the air all around the inn, even Nepeta can’t quite tell which direction they went in.  Equius is sitting on the back steps of some kind of human eating establishment, nursing the goose-egg bump on the back of his head.  In the silence of the dark, strange city, he pats at his glistening face with a fresh white towel and considers his errors.

After a while, Nepeta drops soundlessly off of a nearby rooftop and pads over, adjusting the white lion-head cap on her head.

“I found a place where we can say,” she says.  “…Are you sulking?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“ _Nepeta_.”

“Hey,” she says, crouching next to him.  “There’s a resthive whose owner doesn’t mind having trolls in his blocks.  It’s not too far away, so we can make an early day of it and get started in the evening.  How about it?”

“Nepeta, I failed.  I allowed Serket to distract me and they escaped!  We were so _close…_ ”

She pats his face and glances at his left hand, which is still holding the bow and one long, blue-fletched arrow.  “You won’t get any sleep if you keep worrying like that!  Now unstring your bow, or the it’s gonna get ruined.  Come _on_ …”

Equius looks bleakly up at her, and then, surprisingly, tries a weak, crooked smile.

“Not all hope is lost, I suppose.”

“That’s right!” she says, gripping one of his hands in hers.  “Now let’s go!”

From her vantage point between two iron chimneys, Vriska watches them leave.  Her fangs are a pearly gleam in the darkness as she smiles, and then she takes a running jump onto an adjacent roof, heading in the direction of the river.


	3. In Which Many Introductions are Made, Affections are Discovered, and Bad News is Delivered on Several Fronts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In some cases, troll-human relations begin to improve! In others, they're still terrible. Sollux makes yet another unwelcome discovery about the demon and Karkat bleeds all over the place. Again. Also includes: a newly-founded pale relationship and the tale of a long-ended old one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I steamroll through this story making the necessary edits and trying to create something slightly easier to understand, I begin to feel better and better about it. It at least no longer feels like a complete mess, which is great!  
> There are only two chapters left, the first of which should be posted quite soon. The final chapter, however, is still incomplete and there will probably be a bit of a wait while I fill in the gaps and edit it to my satisfaction. I don't expect anyone to wait on tenterhooks but there will be a moderately intense cliffhanger. Just a heads-up!

To Rose’s resigned discontent, the only food to be had on the barge is the fish the men are transporting.  Fresh fish.  A metal grill is placed over the brick-and-sand firehole on deck and the scaled, gutted salmon are cooked gold.  Polite conversation is made between the deckhands and the travelers, although no real questions are asked about where they’re going or why they had cause to run and jump onto a moving barge.  Money can be helpful that way.

The barge stops in a small fishing village where, no matter how good a troll’s sense of smell might be, it ought to be impossible for them to track four humans who also stink of trout.  They traipse their way through the little town until they reach the outskirts and a road leading North.

“Dead away from Allernia,” says Dave, staring up the path.  “Sounds good to me.  Jade, what does the map say?”

Jade, whose storage deck is always crammed with odds and ends and who looks much too tired to rummage through it for the item in question, replies, “The map says we should go a little way up the road until we run into the bridge that crosses the tributary that fisherwoman mentioned, and then wash our clothes.  That’s what the map says.”

Dave nods.  “Alright.  Can’t argue with the wisdom of the map.”

For all that she looks ready to fall over and sleep, Jade manages a chuckle at this.  Then, glancing at Rose, she murmurs, “Are we...really sure this is our only option?  Running from those trolls?”

“For now, at any rate,” Rose says, lifting up her skirts to step over a fallen log transversing the trail.  “I might even have been prepared to come peacefully with the ones who accosted us earlier, if they hadn’t _shot_ at us.”

“Though only _one_ of them did,” says John fairly.  Rose rolls her eyes.

“There were more than ten in that room when we dropped down into it.  I had no time for an exact count, but the point is this: if they are so disorganized that members of their party are acting violently independent of the rest, how can we be sure of our safety in returning to the city with them?  In such situations negotiation is best conducted at a distance, _without_ any weapons present.”

“Did your mother tell you that?” says Dave sharply.

Rose raises her eyebrows.  “Why, didn’t yours?”

It’s already midday when they reach the stream that splits off from the big river.  Each of them changes into fresh (or, at least, fresher) clothes, rolls up their pants or skirts, and spends the last of their energy washing the dirty, fishy garments they’ve been wearing for the past couple of days.  Then it’s back up to the campsite for a noontime nap, all of them sprawled around the half-constructed firepit.

Dave doesn’t dream of much, but there are little bits of yesterday in there, memories queuing for his attention.  It only feels like a short sleep, but when he wakes up the woods are dark and John is kneeling next to the fire, blowing on a flickering red ember with some bits of kindling carefully crossed over it.

Dave stares at him, thinking about something that’s been bothering him since last night.  After a moment, the kindling catches and Jade shoos John to one side, artfully adding larger and larger sticks to the fire.  John, glancing around, catches sight of Dave sitting up and says, “Hey, you’re awake!  Finally!”

“You moved,” says Dave, still staring.

John’s forehead wrinkles.  “Huh?”

“You moved.  Before the arrow hit.  And you weren’t even looking in the archer’s direction, not that you could have seen him through that crowd.  What gives?”

John’s shoulders do something that looks like an interrupted shrug—it starts off as a raising of the shoulders and then trails off into a kind of awkward rolling motion, like he’s trying to stretch his neck.

“John,” says Rose sternly.

“Now, guys…”

“ _John_ …”

John bites his lip, cocks his head to one side as though listening to something they can’t hear, and then blurts out, “Alright, okay, I was lying before when I said I didn’t see anything when we were all sick with the fever!  There was a girl there and her name is Jane and I think she has something to do with the magic but she is pretty cool and I didn’t want you guys to think I was crazy but I talk to her sometimes and we’ve been planning pranks together—“

“I knew it!” Jade laughs, shaking her fists in triumph.  “I knew Rose and I couldn’t be the only ones!  I talked to Jake for hours the other day but I thought maybe he’d want to stay secret!  And then a lot of stuff was happening so I never got to bring it up, but if we’re all coming into the open about it…”

“Hang on, I think I would’ve noticed if you were talking to yourself for hours,” says John, frowning.

“You didn’t know you could talk to them with your mind?” asks Jade.  “I tried it out first thing, it’s really fun!  For all I know, all of you could have been having little secret conversations while we we’ve been on the run!”

She glances at Dave, who is stone-faced as ever, and shrugs.  “In your own time, Dave.”

“Yes, Dave, we wouldn’t dream of pressuring you,” says Rose, leveling a piercing purple stare at Dave.  “Tell us about your magical spirit advisor’s existence whenever you feel comfortable.  Or, more appropriately,” she amends, “whenever _they_ feel comfortable.”

“They?” says Dave, glancing from Jade to John with one eyebrow raised.

Rose waves one hand impatiently.  “As in the gender-neutral pronoun, not the multiple.  Your…brain ghost, whatever they are.  They obviously don’t have to match the gender of the person they communicate with, since John’s is a girl and Jade’s is a boy.”

“Why don’t you tell us about your brain ghost, Rose?” asks Jade, her green eyes sparkling.   “The more we know, the better!”

“Perhaps,” says Rose, whose mind seems to be elsewhere.  “I can’t help but think…”

“Think what?” asks Dave, the note of sharpness not quite disguised by his affected lazy tone of voice.

“…That there has to be a way for us to see each other’, ah, ‘brain ghosts’.  Also, that there ought to be a better term than ‘brain ghost’.”

There’s a pause and then Dave gives an oddly belated chuckle.  Rose cocks an eyebrow at him.

“…Nothing,” says Dave, impassive again.  “Brain ghost sounds fine to me.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“No problem.”

As Dave and Rose sink into their familiar rut of humorously passive-aggressive politeness, John lets Jane come into being beside him.

 _Jade says I can talk to you with my mind,_ he tries.

_Well, apparently you can!  Hoo hoo!_

_She said it like it was really obvious!_ John tells her, putting as much indignation into the thought as he can.  Jane chuckles again, and when she pats him on the shoulder it’s like being touched by a hand-shaped light breeze.  Weird, but oddly refreshing!

“John!”

“What?” John yelps, looking wildly around.  All three of the others are looking expectantly at him.

“I was just asking whether you wanted to try to figure out how we might be able to interact with each other’s…brain ghosts,” says Rose, grimacing ever so slightly at the phrase.

“Oh…okay, I can ask!  What do you think, Jane?” says John, glancing at her.  

She shuffles her feet, sighs, and then says, _Alright!  In the interest of maintaining this new policy of openness...let’s go for it!_

“She says okay,” says John, grinning a broad, toothy grin.  “So, how do we do this?”

Rose frowns thoughtfully.  “I would say the key might be skin contact, but we’ve had plenty of that since the fiasco that brought all this on, and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of any brain ghosts but Roxy.”

“So maybe it’s just impossible?” asks John, his heart sinking.  “This is troll stuff and we don’t have any trolls to ask about it...not that they’d answer even if we could send them PMs from our end, probably.  But, I mean, maybe you need to do a spell for it, and we don’t have any spells on hand!  It could be anything!”

“Don’t get carried away,” says Jade, giggling.  “I’m sure there’s a totally logical way of doing it.  Maybe you just need to give each other permission to see them, like in the old stories?  When it comes to magic, permission is _very_ important.”

John’s thick black eyebrows are still quirked in confusion.  “…What, like, in some special way?  The whole _verily I do giveth thee permission—“_

“First of all, it would just be ‘I give thee’,” Rose intercedes, putting a hand on John’s shoulder.  “And secondly, even just saying ‘sure, it’s okay if you see my brain-ghost would probably be enough—if in fact that is how they are meant to be revealed to us.”

John rolls his eyes and huffs.  “Well, alright, excuse me for asking!  I’ll try it, then, and you can tell me if it worked.  Ahem…Rose, it would be fine with me if you could see Jane.”

The instant the name leaves his mouth, Rose’s eyes drift to his right, seeming to land on Jane.  Her hand drops from his shoulder, and she blinks and squints as though trying to see something in the distance.

“So?” says John, excitement rising in his chest.  He likes Jane, and hadn’t even considered that he might have the opportunity to introduce her to his friends at some point.

“I think I saw her for a moment,” says Rose, still blinking.  “But now she’s gone again…  John, hold my hand.”

“Do what?”

“I think skin contact _is_ a part of it,” says Rose, finally moving her eyes back to his face.  “The permission and the skin contact together, perhaps?  So here.”  She extends a hand.  John takes it gingerly, less out of embarrassment and more out of disconcertment.  Rose doesn’t often initiate physical contact, and the last man who tried to take her hand without checking to make sure it was alright…well, he didn’t profit from the interaction.

“Ah,” says Rose the instant their palms touch.  “There you are.  Good evening.”

Jane waves shyly.  To one side of John and Rose, Jade gasps in delight.

“It worked?  It worked!  This is so _interesting_ , I have to write this down…”

“Sometimes I think I’m never going to understand you, Wildgirl,” says Dave, shaking his head.  Jade gives him a mock-stern look over her glasses and then continues digging in her storage deck for her journal, arms buried up to the elbows in nothingness.  The effect is quite bizarre.

“Alright,” says Rose, “I think it’s time I did my own introductions.  John, I permit you to see Roxy.”

John blinks, and she’s there.  Beside him, Jane says, _Oh!_

The girl standing behind Rose is tall and lanky, her collarbones jutting above the low collar of her red dress.  Like Rose, she has white-blonde hair, but her face is more open and earnest than Rose’s and now she smiles nervously back at John and Jade as they stare at her, open-mouthed.

Jane is the first to speak this time.   _Hello, what’s…what’s your name?_

 _Roxy!_ Says Roxy cheerfully, extending one black-gloved hand.   _Nice to meet you finally!  I feel like I almost knew you were there all along, I just couldn’t figure out exactly what the feeling was!_

 _I know what you mean,_ says Jane.  She sounds relieved.  John keeps holding on to Rose’s hand, faintly aware that his hand is getting sweaty but not wanting to let go because Roxy and Jane seem to be getting along so well.

After the two brain ghost girls have both introduced themselves they make some very unconventional small-talk—“ _what’s the first thing you remember?_ ”, “ _do you feel like you exist when you’re not in the outside?_ ”, “ _do you have that weird feeling like there’s something you should know how to do but you don’t?_ ”, and so on.  Jade looks on with eager curiosity and no small amount of frustration while Rose relays significant points of the inaudible conversation to her.

After that introductions are made all around, except where Dave is concerned.  He sits on his rolled-up blanket, watching the proceedings with an odd downwards tilt to one corner of his mouth.  If anyone notices this, they choose not to comment on it.

Once Roxy, Jade, and Jake have all been given some time to talk (Jane seems oddly flustered seeing Jake for the first time), the brain ghosts vanish back to wherever they came from.  Everyone is silent for a while, not least because the memory of the food they had on the barge is starting to seem very far away indeed.  Still, for all that the sleep they had earlier should have left them refreshed and ready to travel, no one seems in any hurry to pack up and move.  

Rose is the first to voice everyone’s thoughts.  “I think there’s another town not two miles from here, but for tonight I’d rather build up the campfire and sleep here.  All in favor?”

All four hands go into the air.

\--

Kanaya has been thinking long and hard about what to do.  Gamzee’s missing, gods only know where.  Nepeta and Equius have already left in search of the humans, with Vriska and Terezi on their heels of course.  Sollux, Feferi, and Eridan are hard at work trying to track down the demon, while  Aradia seems perfectly happy to let everything unfold, and Karkat and Tavros just wander around stewing.

Really, Kanaya thinks, if only someone would just send another message to the humans things might be solved so _easily_.

So, without consulting Karkat, she does so.

The message she sends is not, as Karkat’s was, directed at the human with Tavros’s pneumamagia, but at the one in possession of Vriska’s phosmagia.  She’s not sure she wants to talk to the person now in possession of her own chaomagia, and she feels uneasy about asking after Aradia’s chronomagia without her consent.

Vriska’s it is.

Her first thought was to be polite and considerate, but the longer she paces and wonders what to write, the more animosity she feels towards the humans—jumping into the middle of what was obviously very intricate magework?  Not even staying to see if anything could be done for the mages in question?  And as for that “catch me if you can” message, _well_.  She’ll talk to them reasonably, but she feels well within her limits to be _stern_.

She clears her throat and starts dictating her PM, her words appearing as green text with her usual writing quirk present.

_Hello Human,_

_My Name Is Kanaya Maryam.  Several Nights Ago, You And Your Accomplices Committed A Grave Crime Against Trollkind.  I Am One Of Those Whose Magia You Stole, And Though You Are Not In Possession Of My Power Specifically, The Phosmagia You Now Possess Belonged To Perhaps The Most Dangerous And Reckless Of Our Number.  You Will Surely Regret This In No Short Order._

_I Know From The Second Response We Received That Your Aims Are Not Entirely Honorable.  After All, You Ran Rather Than Offering Us Recompense For Your Frivolous Actions The Previous Night, Without Even Considering Whether The Rather Long, Angry Message Spoke For All Of Us._

_I May, In Fact, Be Your Last Chance For Redemption.  Perhaps We Could Arrange Some Sort Of Private Meeting Between The Sanest Members Of Our Groups.  Think Long And Hard Before Making Your Reply._

_-Kanaya Maryam_

She dispatches the PM and waits in some degree of savage satisfaction for the reply.  As the minutes tick by, however, her victorious mood begins to wane somewhat.  She taps her foot and stares out the window at the early dawn light.

It’s not surprising, she tells herself.  She did tell the human recipient to think long and hard, after all.  They are probably consulting with their companions at this instant, squabbling inconclusively, trying to—

Oh, there’s the reply.  

The PM holds up her message and Kanaya draws the panel a little closer to her, watching as the purple text loads.  Just the first line is enough to make her think she knows less about humans than she thought she did.

_Dear Sweet Precious Kanaya,_

_This is actually remarkably similar to the first message your comrade with the gray text sent us, though couched in less creatively crude language.  My confidence in you and your group of mages is less than bolstered._

_I can’t say I’m entirely surprised that no one in said group has thought to catch flies with honey rather than vinegar (this is a human expression which I will gladly explain if necessary).  We might easily have worked out a truce of sorts!  Since your friends never contacted local law enforcement, I can only assume you would much rather sort things out privately.  Purely speculation, of course, but based in solid fact.  You may correct me if I’m wrong and you simply enjoy the thrill of hunting down humans without the help of the authorities._

_As it is, we seem fated to be enemies.  Life is too short, I think--especially for we sad, puny humans, destined for grim deaths at the hands of your very dangerous friends.  From how you’ve described them, I feel we were more than justified in running, quite contrary to your assertion that we could have somehow avoided their wrath, had we surrendered._

_In short:_ _gotta try harder if you wanna beat strider_ _shutupdave we are going to keep running until you stop threatening._ All _of you._

_Also, in case you were wondering, the address of this message was meant sarcastically.  It’s a human thing._

_-Cordially Yours,_

_Rose Lalonde_

Kanaya sits back, her heart beating inexplicably fast.  It’s entirely possible, she thinks, that she needs to re-evaluate some of her opinions. And then, maybe, send a biting riposte.  Yes, that’s definitely what she’s going to do.

_Rose Lalonde…_

Kanaya wonders if she’s the kind of human female who wears dresses.

\--

The windows are closed.

Specifically, the windows of Tavros’s respiteblock.  He lives beyond the Western edge of the city, outside the wall, where the foothills of the nearby mountains begin to rise.  Aradia used to live out at the base of the great, jagged range, she and her lusus isolated save for a few select neighbors.

Tavros was one of these neighbors, though she’s since moved into the city.  It’s nice to have her closer these days, but now he can’t help thinking wistfully of the first days of their friendship.  One day he got a PM in rust-red text saying that the writer had seen the windmill wings of his hive and wanted to write to whoever lived there.

It’s a windy day, and the wheel outside is turning with great, heavy swings.  Usually, this would mean all the windows in the house were open and Tavros would be out flying above the great plains surrounding the city.

But he can’t fly now.  And he doesn’t need lively breezes coming through his window reminding him of that.

He isn’t surprised when Aradia slips into his block, looking concerned.  She’s a frequent visitor, with keys of her own, and never seems to turn up when he doesn’t want company.  She glances at the canes next to him as she sits down, her shoulder against his, staring out the window with him.  Neither of them speaks, although he’s sure she can feel the words marshaling in his head.

Where to start?  With the canes or the emptiness or how _angry_ he is at the human who took his magia…?

The seconds tick by and Tavros breathes in, counting one-two-three-four on the inhales and then up to seven on the exhales.  Eventually, making sure not to hit her head with one of his horns, he turns to look at her and says, “Uh…I’m afraid of what it might, theoretically, be like…if I never get my magia back, you know?”

“Mm-hm.”

“I don’t even know…whether I want to try and communicate, or, I mean, send some kind of ultimatum to the guy, whoever it is, who has my magia right now?  Because he seemed, just really horrible and like he didn’t care at all.”

Aradia nods understandingly, in a way that doesn’t seem fake or contrived at all, and Tavros’s vision becomes faintly tinted brown with welling tears.

“I just wish there was something, that I could _do_ , I don’t know…”

He trails off, too frustrated for words, and after a moment Aradia sighs gently and turns a little to look at him.  “Tavros, I’m sorry if I say things sometimes that make you feel bad.  I know what you’re going through now is kind of the opposite of how I feel!  You’ve always been close to your Wiser Self, you can use your magia without being overwhelmed by…well, by the kind of stuff I hear when I used mine.  And you relied on it, but not the way Vriska did.  I always admired that about you!”

Tavros, whose ears now have a tint of brown at their tips, says, “…This, uh, sounds, kind of like…we’re talking about our feelings.  Together.”

Aradia swallows, looking a little uncertain for the first time.  “Well, I thought maybe that was what we were doing!  But if I misread the signs—“

“No,” says Tavros, and reaches out tentatively to put his palm against her cheek.  “I think I can say, with, uh, confidence, that you very definitely didn’t.”  Now Aradia’s blushing a little too.  They give each other awkward, embarrassed smiles and then she stands up abruptly, hands on her hips.

“Alright, Tavros!  I’ve always thought you were one of the most heroic trolls I knew, but you’ve dropped a few bars on that elevation stack since you started moping around all the time!”  She strides over to the windows, ignoring Tavros’s aborted protests, and opens the window.  Outside, a great wood-and-cloth wing swishes past.  The wind rushes into the room, a great, hair-lifting gust, and Tavros realizes with a pang of familiarity that he can still feel it, all the little currents and eddies, even if he can’t control it anymore.

“Now, _I_ believe we can fix this one way or another,” says Aradia, businesslike.  “I don’t care so much about mine, but if yours was taken I’m sure we can take it back.  But right now, let’s talk through how you feel about your situation in a rational way, alright?”

“That doesn’t sound like it would make me feel better,” says Tavros, somewhat rebelliously.

Aradia sits down next to him and takes his hand in hers.  “…If I still had my powers,” she says, “I would come back in time to this moment from the future and tell you how much happier you seemed after talking about it.  But I can’t, so you’ll just have to trust me!”

And Tavros realizes, as he sighs and lets her pull him down so that his head is in her lap, that he does trust her.  Implicitly.

\--

You shouldn’t avoid your moirail.

That’s another of the keystones of moiraillegiance, the pale quadrant: trust your moirail, and when you can’t go to anyone else, go to them.  It sounds simple, but sometimes it just…isn’t.

Or maybe, Karkat thinks, it should be and he’s just a freak, the odd one out as per usual.  He resolves to visit Gamzee as soon as he’s had some time alone to give the Sufferer free reign.  Not that he has any plans to talk to Gamzee about the Sufferer.

It started off as a consequence of hiding his blood color, but now that most of his friends know it’s mostly a mix of habit and...shame.  Shame both over the way he stubbornly represses his magia and the painful, disgusting consequences  And it always gets worse when he’s stressed, because a mage body’s response to stress is to keep their magia fired up and ready to go at all times.

He’s already reached the street where he lives when something bounces and whirrs along the rooftops to his left, landing in a tight roll on the paving of the roadside.  The elegantly coordinated runner unfolds into the slouching, elastic shape of Gamzee Makara, and Karkat freezes.

_Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit—_

What to do, where to hide?  His blood already feels like it’s boiling in his veins and he can’t stop to talk, he _can’t_ —

“Hey, best friend!”

SHIT.

“Hello...Gamzee,” says Karkat tightly.  Even as he raises one hand in a half-hearted wave, the Signless appears in the corner of his eye.  There’s a bead of bright red blood sliding from one of his nostrils and his eyes are flickering red.

“Brother, I haven’t all and saw you for an age, what is all up?”

“Stop saying ‘all’,” Karkat snaps, and then tries to look calm and not at all in need of a feelings jam.

Gamzee, who can be infuriatingly perceptive at times, leans in close and says, “You look all sorts of unwell, you know?  You wanna have talks at my hive?”

 _Karkat,_ says a soft, gravelly voice in his head.   _Karkat, we need to—hkk—_

The sound is a wet half-cough and it makes a thrill of fear run down Karkat’s spine.

“Not right now, Gamzee,”

He didn’t think his bloodpusher could sink any lower, but the way Gamzee’s face falls seems to stomp the candy-red organ into the ground.

“Best friend, is something—“

 _Karkat,_ says the Signless, his voice thick and strained, _if you want to keep this a secret you need to get out of here._

Karkat’s bile sac burns in sudden terror.  He takes a few steps away from Gamzee, frantically seeking an excuse and managing nothing better than, “Uh, I have to…send a message.  Gotta talk to Sollux, see you later!”

“Pale for you…” says Gamzee, looking melancholy and lost

Karkat nods wordlessly, his mouth trying and failing to shape the phrase in return.  And then he runs, feeling like an asshole and a coward.  But if his moirail knew this was happening and that it had been going on for _months_ , how would that come across?

Not fucking well, that’s how.

Karkat reaches his hive with the Signless’s insistent voice searing his thinkpan, stumbles up the stairs, past the block he shares with Sollux, and Eridan, and into the dark, windowless block down the hallway.

There isn’t a name for these yet, but every building where multiple trolls live in the same space has one.  Everyone needs to be alone from time to time.  And usually, he thinks, with a pulse of guilt, “alone” would mean “spending time with your palemate”.

Well, too bad.

“Alright,” Karkat growls through gritted teeth, “You can come out now.”

\--

Equius is annoyed.

Nepeta wouldn’t mind this so much if he would just put his extra energy to use and help set up camp, but as it is he seems hellbent on enumerating the bad things that have happened to them over the course of the past few days.

“--and if I still think those _darned_ humans should have gladly offered us passage on their vessel!  Just because we’re trolls--”

“Oh, don’t be silly, you _punched their boat,_ ” says Nepeta, rolling her eyes.

“Because they told us to _pay_!”

“But we learned stuff from that!  Like how a boat further on took payment from some human travelers!  So we at least found out where the humans were going!”

“I don’t trust that ridiculous...flag message system,” Equius growls.  “They could easily have been misinterpreted.  For all we know, this has been for naught!”

“But maybe it isn’t,” says Nepeta sternly, pulling a stone knife from her storage deck and lifting the hopbeast she caught earlier by the ears.  “Now look away, you probably won’t want to see this.”

“N-Nepeta, this is disrespectful. And unnecessary, although of course now that you have killed the beast it would be best its death were not in vain.  But don’t forget that we packed provisions, and that I demand you take your food from those from now on.”

“ _You_ did,” says Nepeta, opening the animal with a quick slice and busily emptying its entrails into a bowl.  “I thought I’d just hunt on the road!  It’s easy and it tastes a lot better too!”

Equius shudders, his eyes averted.  “ _Disgusting_.”

“We’ll see how you feel when it’s roasting on a spit!” says Nepeta cheerfully, and then, seeing his expression, “...Or maybe not.  But look, we’re faster and stronger than those humans, even if they _were_ on the river for a while, and soon enough we’ll catch up with them again!  And then we can go home!”

“Yes,” says Equius a little weakly, and then, catching her eye and unable to resist her encouraging smile, he returns one of his own and says, “...Yes.  Soon we’ll be home, and all of this will be behind us.”

“That’s the spirit!”

\--

Jade has the map and knows the land better than any of them, and decides that they should head for the salamander village to the South.  She and John are apparently celebrated guests there, for reasons they won’t explain at the moment due to the length and complexity of the story.

While they walk, Rose idly scrolls through another message from her trollfriend (as Dave has dubbed the mysterious Kanaya Maryam), occasionally laughing softly under her breath.

“What?” John keeps asking, craning his neck to see over her shoulder, but every time Rose waves him away.

All she’ll say in explanation is, “I just enjoy these messages, and not entirely because her intentions are amusingly misguided.  You wouldn’t think the things I’m laughing at were funny, John.”

“Yeah,” says Dave, elbowing John in the ribs, “get your own trollfriend, John.”

Jade makes a face.  “Ew, no!  They’ve just been awful so far!  I really don’t think we should have anything to do with them.  I was hoping we could work something out at first, but you can only play nice for so long, especially with people like that!”

“Jade doesn’t want a trollfriend,” Dave declares.  “John, you can have hers.”

John puckers his lips in an expression of deep consideration.  “Hmmm…  Two trollfriends sounds like a big responsibility!  I think I will just have one and Jade’s will just have to be lonely.”

“You don’t want one yourself, Dave?” asks Rose, her eyes still fixed on the message in her hands.

“No troll heroic enough for this stoic,” says Dave.  “They’d have to go through mad wicked trials to achieve friendship status with me, you know?”

“You mean like dealing with the assassins that come after you on a semi-regular basis?” Jade chirps.  “Is that why we get to be your friends, Dave?”

“No, you get to be my friends because for some reason you still wanted to be after the whole assassin thing,” says Dave.  “Gods beat me but I still have no idea why you decided it was a good idea to keep traveling with me after they descended on us like fucking vultures on a carcass.  Except in this case the carcass is four people who are abnormally good at kicking ass and the vultures are a bunch of _hetatuls_ from the old country who got a little more than they bargained for.”

“Keeping you around was more interesting than not,” John tells him.  “Also, what does that word mean?”

“’Assholes’,” says Dave.  And then, glancing to one side, “Don’t look now but there’s another PM for Rose.”

“It’s not mine,” Rose murmurs, “I’m not done with this one…”

“Ha,” says Dave as the PM jumps up to hover in front of John, “John has a trollfriend.”

“Shut up, Dave, it could be from my dad!”

It’s not from his dad.

_Hello human,_

_I am going to find you.  I saw you in the tavern, looking all ridiculous and 8rown and, let’s face it, shockingly indecent with the 8reath mark showing like that.  I know the guy whose powers you are using right now, and if you are anything like him you had 8etter start 8egging me for mercy now!  Most trolls don’t even stand a chance against me and you’re not even a troll, so let’s face it: aaaaaaaall of you are going down.  Even if one of you does have my phosmagia!  Which, 8y the way, I’ll bet you can’t use._

_The name is Vriska Serket and you should pro8a8ly remem8er it for l8er…you know, so you can tell your friends who was responsible for your epic defeat!  If you have any friends, that is._

_L8ter!!!!!!!!_

“Wow,” says John.

“It seems like they’re basically all the same!” says Jade, raising her eyebrows.  “They all just want us to know how _aaaangry_ they are and how we’re _never going to escaaaaape!_ ”

Dave nods slowly.  “Yeah, that’s about all they’ve given us so far.  Must be a cultural thing.”

“So there’s a troll contacting you as well,” saysRose, finally looking up from her message to glance at John’s.  “And it’s...more death threats?”

“Yeah!  Keep up, Rose,” says John with mock-impatience.  He squints at the cerulean text.  “What do you think I should send back?  I was thinking maybe another _catch me if you can_!”

Rose frowns thoughtfully.  “I don’t know about that.  Though I’m all for continuing to stay one step ahead of these trolls, I think it might be possible for us to coax them into a slightly less…murderous mindset if we can keep communicating with them.  I wouldn’t have thought it possible at first, but Kanaya has become much more receptive over the past couple of days.”

“Then you’re lucky,” Jade mumbles.  Then, as the conversation fails to continue, she looks up to see three curious faces looking at her.  “…What?”

“Jade,” says Dave, with just the slightest hint of a smile in his voice, “do you have a trollfriend?”

“Ew, Dave, no!  More like a troll enemy!”

“Well, what are they like?” asks John eagerly.  “There were a lot of them there, what kind of weird are they?”

“The same weird as the first guy who contacted us,” says Jade, sounding almost bitter, “because it _is_ the same guy.  He’s been writing in red instead of gray, but it’s pretty hard to mistake the way he writes.  And he’s even more horrible than he was the first time!”

“You know it’s a he now?”  Dave raises his eyebrows.

Jade grimaces.  “He described himself in third person once.  I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“You haven’t been answering him, have you?” Rose asks.  “It only encourages such people.”

“Of course not!” Jade exclaims, arms akimbo for a moment.  “I mean, I sent a frowning sigil back last time, but I didn’t really expect it to help.  Anyway, he says he’s their leader, so if he can’t be reasoned with I don’t know how much it could help to talk to the rest of them…”

Rose frowns.  “Kanaya hasn’t mentioned anything about a _leader_ …although she has said that she has a rather bossy friend who’s upset about this whole thing.”

“Upset would be an understatement!” says Jade, sighing.  “But he doesn’t seem like he’d make a very good leader and half the things he says sound made up, so…maybe the rest of them will listen.”

John grins.  “Alright!  I’ll send this troll a reply, and we’ll see what happens!”

The answer that Vriska Serket receives several minutes later is as follows:

_hey Vriska!_

_we’re running from you guys because the first message we got from you didn’t make it sound like you were interested in talking and, well, yours wasn’t encouraging either.  you’re gonna have to be a little nicer if you want a parlay!_

Vriska stares.

She’s not sure where to begin—with the total disregard for the actual sentiment of her message, with the casual “hey Vriska”, or with the implication that her intent was to _get them to talk to her_.

She’s so annoyed, in fact, that she spends half an hour dictating, editing, and re-editing a reply before setting out again.

\--

Sollux’s respiteblock has become almost intolerably messy after three nights of intensive research, but he refused to clean it up until he’s got an answer ( _“Those print-outs might be important!!”_ ), so Eridan and Feferi are settled awkwardly on whatever furniture isn’t covered in grubtubes or codes scrawled on piles of paper—usually after clearing grubtubes or papers off of said furniture.

Sollux is looking at the archive where he got the information about the ultimate search engine in the first place, his eyes flickering across post after post about .ex files and their properties.

“More forums?” asks Eridan, idely flipping through . _Ex Viruses that Shaped the Century_.

“What do you think?” Sollux snaps, and then, “One of you should get me more coffee.”

“Stand up and get it yourself!” says Feferi, and yawns widely.  “I…I don’t think you’ve moved from that chair for a day and a night now, and you’ve hardly even slept—“

“You’re not my moirail, FF, and I don’t need one.”

“True on the first count, but…rude!”

“I’m sure Fef doesn’t really want you as a moirail _anyway_ ,” says Eridan, sniffing.  “You do too much making out for that.”

Feferi gasps with affected shock.  “Also rude!  I am surrounded by boys who do nothing but whine and glub and ask for coffee.”

“You’re both awful and I don’t know why I put up with you,” Sollux grumbles.  “And I _did_ sleep, by the way.”

“Passing out with your head on your keyboard for an hour doesn’t count,” says Eridan, glaring at him.  “It’s hardly any different from fondling it every second you’re awake!”

“Oh, say that _one more time_ …”

“Sure, maybe it’ll get you up and away from the damn screen!  What’s the point of going through a hundred more pages of bulgerubbers spreading rumors and shit?  I mean, fuckin’ really!”

“Maybe we just need to look at it another way,” Feferi interjects, and both boys stop bristling immediately, not wanting to come anywhere close to something resembling an ashen interaction with her.

“Yeah,” mutters Eridan, “maybe you can find the original programs for the demons, we can install our own, and ask _them_ about it.”

Sollux makes a strangled growling noise in the back of his throat and snaps hoarsely, “I can’t even _begin_ to explain how stupid that is!  Like, even if I search for it on Troogle, it was programmed _ages_ ago and the codes were never posted anywhere!  Look, it’s all pretentious douchefucks talking about stuff they’ve ‘extrapolated’ from what we know has to be programmed into them, but it’s nowhere near enough to actually make our own!”

“Oh, whatever,” says Eridan, standing up suddenly.  “I’m going to go get some coffee.  Fef, do you want any?”

“Yes please!  And if there’s any musclebeast milk in the nutritionblock, just a little of that!”

“Wait!”

Both seatrolls, looking rather puzzled and vexed, turn to Sollux, who’s staring at his computer screen like he’s seen a ghost.

“Oh, what _now_?” snarls Eridan.  “Don’t tell me you’ve made another genius breakthrough with the help of your trusty brinesucking sidekicks!”

“Eridan,” Feferi hisses, putting a hand on his chest.  “I don’t appreciate that!  Sollux, calm down!  I won’t tolerate another word if you don’t tell us rationally what you’ve figured out.”

“Not all the codes are available, but there’s still a fuckton we can learn from what they’ve got,” Sollux mutters, scrolling at lightning speed while one hand jots down line after line in a little book.

“And how much help can that be?” Eridan groans, collapsing against the wall.  “Ugh…Fef, I feel a little faint, I think I stood up too fast…”

“Then sit down, silly!” says Feferi patiently, gesturing at Eridan’s usual chair.  Eridan complies, looking sheepish.

“ _This_ is it.”  Sollux taps a tiny line of numbers and symbols, the manic light of an upswing in mood glowing in his eyes.  “Remember what I said before?  About the demons working together?  The black one’s technically a virus and and the white one keeps it in check.”

“Yeah, because without it, it _kills_ people and then comes for us, I remember!” Eridan snarls.  “Is there a point to this?

“That’s the thing, though, according to this, it’s programmed not to do _anything_ unless it knows where its counterpart is,” says Sollux.  “So really, the only reason we _haven’t_ gotten word of it killing people is probably that it’s looking for the white demon.  I think it’s completely lost track of where it is.”

“Oh, that’s _fine_ then,” Eridan mutters, still scrolling through newsfeeds from local hiveclusters.  “…No mention of it anywhere here.  Fuck, come on, it could be anywhere around the world!”

“It’s not _fine_ ,” Sollux snaps.  “What if it finds the white demon and the white one can’t chase the black one for some reason?  It’ll still have fulfilled its protocol and located its minder, but it won’t actually be minded!”

“And it _kills_ people,” says Eridan, his voice deadpan but for a slight tremor.  “Great.  Fantastic.  And if the white demon is...integrated with that one human, you think it won’t be able to chase the other one?"

Feferi gasps.  “Of course, the human with the white ears!  Would something like that corrupt the .ex file, Sollux?”

Sollux gives her a pained, helpless look.  “FF...all of this is unprecedented, I don’t--”

“Your best guess?”

He grimaces. “I...alright, probably yes.  Very probably.”

Eridan stares at them, disbelieving.  “So it’s...it’s just a matter of time before it finds the human and actually _does_ start running free?  Oh, that’s just fucking-- _fintastic._ ”

“Good one!” Feferi giggles, bumping his arm with her elbow and almost throwing him off his chair.

“I’m sending this to KK,” says Sollux, initiating a PM.  “I didn’t want him to flip out, but this is too much to keep from everyone and he’s the only one with everyone’s addresses.”

“No!”

Sollux looks up at Feferi, who’s on her feet.  “…Uh, why not?”

“We should be there when he reads it,” says Feferi firmly.  “Clamzee isn’t with him too often these days so someone needs to stop him from doing something ridiculous when he finds out!  Come on!”

She’s already out the door when Sollux and Eridan’s stunned expressions break into understanding and they dash after her.

\--

_Rose,_

_Whenever Humans Encounter The Topic Of Troll Romance, They Tend To Buckle Somewhat Under The Influx Of New Information.  I Will Try To Explain It To You Briefly But It Is Difficult To Convey The Quadrants In Language Humans Can Understand._

_Think Of A Grid Of Four—Separated Vertically Between The Red Quadrants, Which Are Based In Positive Emotions, And The Black Quadrants, Which Are Based In Negative Emotions.  In Turn, Divide These Horizontally Into Conciliatory (Platonic) And Concupiscent (Reproductive)._

_The Concupiscent Red Quadrant ( <3) Is Known As The Flushed Quadrant, Which One Shares With One’s Matesprit.  It Best Resembles What You Humans Refer To As “Love”.  Rather Than Enmity, Whether Platonic Or Concupiscent, It Instead Is Based In Feeling A Kind Of…Affection For One’s Partner.  That Affection Is Widely Accepted To Be Based In The Emotion Of Pity._

_The Conciliatory Red Quadrant ( <>) Is Known As The Pale Quadrant, Which One Shares With One’s Moirail.  Though It Features A Similar Kind Of Affection, It Does Not Involve The Mating Fondness That Characterizes Flushed Romance.  Moirails Serve To Balance Each Other Emotionally, Prevent Violent Incidents, And Regulate Each Others’ Other Quadrant Relationships._

_The Concupiscent Black Quadrant ( <3<) Is Known As The Pitch Quadrant, Which One Shares With One’s Kismesis.  I’m Sure You’ve Heard Rumors Of It From Other Humans--It Is Definitely The Most Maligned Quadrant, But We Are Biologically Driven To Fulfill Its Needs!  When It Comes To Kismessisitude, These Needs Involve Finding Another Troll You Can Both Respect And Deeply Dislike.  A Rival, You Might Say!  There Are Legends In Our Culture Of Truly Epic KismessisitudesBut In A Less Grand Context, A Pitch Couple Might Also Show Their Hatred By Generally Vexing Their Partner. _

_The Conciliatory Black Quadrant (c3 <) Is Known As The Ashen Quadrant, One Which Involves The Regulation Of A Potential Pitch Rivalry By Means Of An Intermediating Party.  This Party Is Known As An Auspistice.  This Is One Of The Quadrants Whose Subtleties I Find Really Intriguing, And Whose Appeal It Is Most Difficult To Explain To Humans.  But Suffice To Say, It Is Just As Essential To Us As Any Of The Previous Three._

_I Hope This Helps!_

_> >_

_I’m surprised that other humans have had issues understanding these in the past!  Your explanations seem perfectly logical and I confess I am fascinated!  I will have many more questions for you in the future, but at the present moment one is most pressing…_

_Have you fulfilled any quadrants?  (I don’t know whether that’s the right phrasing or even whether it’s appropriate of me to ask.  Feel free to correct me if I’m breaking some societal norm._

>>

_We Would Usually Call It “Filling Quadrants” Or “Having Quadrantmates”, But You Were Quite Close!  As For Your Question, It Is Personal But Not Inappropriate…_

_As Of Now, My Quadrants Are Completely Empty.  I Used To Have A Moirail Of Sorts, But To Be Honest…It Wasn’t The Red Relationship I Would Have Chosen With Her.  Perhaps It Would Have Ended Badly Anyway, But It Was Eventually Her Wiser Self That Destroyed Our Moiraillegiance--And Any Semblance Of Friendship--Irrevertibly.  I Would Rather Not Talk About The Incident In Question, But I Would Be More Than Happy To Answer Any Other Questions._

_Might I Inquire As To Whether There Is a Lucky Human In Your Life?_

>>

_I completely understand.  If you ever feel the need to tell me more, my ear is always open (metaphorically speaking).  Again, I didn’t mean to intrude on your privacy!_

_Sadly, the world of humans has not given me any cause to spend my amorous intentions on any special woman.  None have been quite intriguing enough!_

In the silence of her respiteblock, Kanaya Maryam slowly curls up on a pile of cushions and hugs a little PM message to her chest, making a quiet, high-pitched noise.

\--

_John, you seem pretty dum8 so I’m going to clue you in on something now: I am totally serious a8out everything I said!  8ut hey, if you want to keep ignoring me, go ahead!  You’ll regret it in the future!_

_However, 8ecause I happen to like playing games, I’ll give you another option—aside from turning yourself in or w8ing for me to capture you and all your friends, that is.  Sta8 yourself through the chest, right at the center of that 8ig stupid 8reath mark.  It’ll make you 8asically waaaaaaaay more powerful than you are now!_

_> >_

_nope, sorry, still not convinced!  you have to try harder than that to pull the wool over the eyes of john egbert! i mean really, telling me to kill myself to make myself stronger?  that’s ridiculous and also pretty rude.  better try again!_

_> >_

_Dammit, Eg8ert, when are you going to understand that everything I am telling you is completely true?  O8viously if I wanted to lie to you in order to manipul8 you, I would have done so 8y now and you would 8e powerless to stop me!  Don’t humans get that trolls are essentially 8etter than them in every possi8le way?  I thought that was common knowledge!_

_> >_

_it isn’t!_

_> >_

_Well…damn.  I guess you don’t know as much a8out us as I thought.  Or that we don’t know as much a8out you, I guess.  I just kind of assumed you were all terrified of us 8ecause that’s how all the humans I’ve met have acted.  Do you realize what that means?  You’ve made me look like I don’t know what I’m talking a8out, Eg8ert!  You should apologize immediately and answer all of my questions!  We will see just how much you know a8out trolls.  We will seeeeeeee._

John rubs his chin thoughtfully, then clears his throat and records the message, “Okay!  But you have to answer my questions too!  I’ve heard trolls find cleaning supplies offensive--what’s up with that?”

\--

Karkat stares.  “Are you…telling me…that in addition to killing our spell, potentially ruining our fucking lives, _stealing_ magia from us, then taunting us and running away… They freed a _murderous demon that might start hunting us down at any fucking moment?!_ ”

Sollux shrugs.  “Basically.  I did tell you we were doomed.”

“Yeah, but you _always_ say that!!” Karkat screams, slamming one hand down on a nutrition plateau.  “Literally all the time!  I mean, why do you think I spend all my time out of the block these days?  I’m tired of your bullshit but _oh no_ it looks like you were right, whoop-de-fucking-do!!  Gods of fucking _fuck_ , what else should we be terrified of?  Huh?  What could possibly make this worse?  I know there’s something!”

“KK.”

“No, don’t tell me, don’t tell me!  Some tentacled horrorbeast is going to slither out of the beyond and—“

“KK!”

“Oh, wait, maybe Aradia told you we’re all going to die because it _‘wasn’t supposed to happen’_ or something, right?  Is this the timeline where we accidentally cause the apocalypse?   _Is it?_ ”

“KK, will you just shut _up_ already?  My head’s already killing me.”

“Oh, you’ve got a headache?   _You’ve_ got a headache?  Hell is having a party in my skull and the devils are stomping their big smelly feet on my anger glands!  And the band just started playing their favorite song!”

“Well I’m _so_ sorry to hear that!” Sollux snarls.  “Maybe you should go and take a break before you relay this _incredibly fucking vital_ news to everyone else!  Just do that!  Have a glass of water and a nap, KK, it’s not like this is more important than your embarrassing physical issues!”

“Are you _really_ doing this right now?”

“Are _you?_ ”

“You started it!”

“Then I’ll finish it!  We’re leaving to get some fucking lunch and you can do whatever you want!”

“Fuck you in every possible orifice!” Karkat yells as Eridan and Feferi practically drag the Sollux out of the room.  

After they’re good and gone, Karkat sits down and, or the fifth time that day, looks at the new message on his PM screen.  It’s in bright green text—brighter than any greenblooded troll would use—and features only a frowning sigil: _:(_

He waves one hand jerkily in the air and dictates a short reply to it before starting on the group message to his eleven followers.

It’s hard, being a leader.  It’s hard and no one understands.

\--

Progress slows considerably as they enter salamander territory, mainly because Jade has to stop every couple feet to scrape up a sample of moss or make a sketch of a symbol etched on one of the smooth blue rocks to either side.  Despite being a regular visitor, she says there’s still more to learn about the small, bipedal amphibians--“More than I could learn in my lifetime, really!”

“Not gonna stop you from trying, though, is it?” asks Dave, watching as she plucks a tiny, pale mushroom from one of the rock formations.

Jade grins and straightens up, fungus in hand.  “Nope!  Alright, good to go…”

“About time!” John groans.  “I’ve been walking _all day_ …”

“So have we all, John,” Rose reminds him.  “Just keep thinking about the hotsprings.”

“That makes me feel worse,” says John, looking offended.  “It’s like thinking about...about _steak_ when you’re hungry!  Thick, juicy steak...”

“ _Hungry_ is another thing we are,” Jade reminds him reproachfully, “so please don’t talk about steak.”

John turns injured blue eyes on her.  “Too late.  Rose already got me started on hotsprings so now I won’t stop until we get there.  Just imagine a fatty, inch-thick slab of beef…browned over a fire and sprinkled with salt, pepper, maybe just a little vinegar—“

The other three clamor for him to stop--even Rose raises her voice in protest, looking slightly pained.  John only holds out a little longer, some of his good cheer apparently restored by a satisfactory reaction to his teasing.

“Alright, alright!  I didn’t mean it.  Come on, let’s hurry up, I haven’t been back here in way too long and nothing looks familiar…oh, wait wait wait, I think I see the lights!’

And then, of course, he starts running.

The thing about the way John runs is that anyone nearby feels compelled to run with or after him.  This is because, for one thing, he runs like someone who just got away with something, and for another...you just want to join in the fun.

A minute later, they almost trip over the first salamander they encounter.  It’s smooth and yellow and comes up to their waists, and it makes great, wet celebratory _glub_ noises at the sight of John and Jade.  It’s not long before a great crowd of the little amphibians has gathered, all excitedly opening and closing their mouths, around which form large, bluish bubbles.

Before long, dinner is produced while a tiny salamander band plays quiet, plunky music to one side.  The meal itself is of the berries-and-nuts variety, although there are also two cooked squirrels.  It’s not exactly beefsteak, but it is a feast compared to some meals they’ve had camping in the wild.

The accommodations are, surprisingly, human-sized.  John explains as they enter the little well-lit house that it was built specifically for him and Jade after their first visit—“during the reconstruction!” he says.

While the rest of the group is unpacking the essentials from their decks and discussing the best time to visit the hotsprings, John opens the most recent message from his trollfriend.

_John human,_

_Since my last message, which you very rudely didn’t answer, I’ve received news from certain sources that one of the demons is on the loose.  You know, the demons we were summoning when you_ interrupted _us?_

 _There are two.  The more dangerous one is jet 8lack and is looking for the other one,_ apparently _\--that 8eing the white demon that’s meant to keep it in line.  That would be the one possessing your long-haired friend 8y the way.  You’re welcome for that inform8ion.  Long story short, once it’s seen the other demon, it will pro8a8ly come after us!  That is to say, the 8adass team of superior life forms whose lives you may have ruined!!!!!!!!_

_Of course, it might also kill you and your friends first, which I think this is a more than legitim8 reason for you to surrender to me and take responsi8ility for your heinous actions.  Think about that, John.  Consider it.  If you ever feel like acting like a real grown up man creature and not a silly pink human 8a8y, I will be w8ing for your reply...8ut also still hunting you down like the ruthless warrior I am!_

John raises his eyebrows and hums tunelessly as he considers his reply.  If he were Rose, he would definitely be trying to get more information about these demons Vriska’s talking about…but he doesn’t really know much about the troll except that they’ve got a pretty high opinion of themselves.

In the end, there seems to be nothing for it but to be honest.  John dictates his reply on his way to the hotsprings with Jade, and then forgets completely about his conversation with the troll in the ensuing splash-fight.

_vriska,_

_that sure doesn’t sound good!  you know, it kinda sounds like you’re trying to warn us about this thing, no matter how much you make it sound like you’re saying it to make us turn ourselves in or whatever!  thanks for caring, but i think we can take care of ourselves!_

\--

John and Jade, for whom clothes are optional at all times, are fine with bathing together, and with anyone else, for that matter.  Rose and Dave are not so uninhibited.  Both of them tend to wait until any potential bathing spots are completely empty.  So when Dave finally gets his turn in one of the hot baths on the outskirts of salamander town, it’s already dark.

In the cool, dim light of the luminescing mushrooms ringing the bath, he strips off his shirt and inhales deeply.  The air is thick with steam, and it makes him miss home a little.  Out in the desert it never got this stiflingly humid.

Absorbed as he is in thoughts of dry sand and hot wind, Dave almost has his trousers off when he notices the gleam of red in the shadows.

He yanks his trousers back up and does his belt in record time, flicking the switch in his mind that makes Dirk appear.  In an instant, he does—well-muscled and over six feet tall, with spiky white hair and a sharp jawline.

 _Can you see better in the dark than I can?_ Dave thinks at the faintly orange apparition.   _If you can, tell me whether I really just saw a pair of red eyes over there._

Dirk nudges his angular cut-glass sunshades up his nose with one thickly-gloved hand and stares into the darkness.

 _…There’s a troll,_ he says eventually.   _And they have a sword, but they’ve darkened it with something._

_Trained assassin, then._

_No way of knowing.  Maybe they learn that shit in grub school._

_Fair point._ Dave reaches into his strife deck and draws his own sword with deliberate slowness, letting it catch the light.  Either the troll will see it and back off or—

 _They’re coming!_ says Dirk sharply in his ear.   _Parry above!_

The troll must have been hiding behind something impenetrably dense, because the moment they leave cover they’re revealed to be wearing the most flashy outfit Dave has ever seen on someone with a blackened blade.  White and red silk rustles as their blades clash, and then both of them struggle for footing on the wet stones around the bath.

Fortunately for Dave, his calves and ankles are the sturdy after years walking on uncertain terrain, and he recovers first, trying for a non-fatal jab to the stranger’s side.  They slide away from the strike with sharp precision, trying to hook an arm around his extended one, but he ducks back, trying and failing for a cut on the leg.

A straightforward stab at his chest sends him reeling backwards, Dirk snapping the occasional warning or brusque instruction into his ear.  It’s not like having one of his friends shouting advice during a fight; it’s as though his own brain is supplying reminders, as quick and natural as instinct.

He flicks away another quick stab, but it went deep enough into his range that the tip of the troll’s blade nicks his arm.  Dave doesn’t lose concentration, but Dirk seems to have been distracted by a thought.

 _They’re aiming for your tattoo,_ he says as the fighters pace and skid around the bath.   _They want to run you through the chest, right where that tattoo is._

 _Maybe once they’re_ not _trying to kill me we can theorize about that!_ Dave snaps, and in his ire swings much too widely, leaving his torso open for attack.

The troll’s sword stops a hair’s breadth from his skin, just barely tickling the keyhole shape at the center of the red design on his chest.

“I wonder if it would actually work,” says the troll, whose clipped, androgynous voice carries a hint of curiosity.  “I could bleed you right now…a breach of etiquette where I come from, but it’s not as though the powers are yours anyway!”

 _I don’t like the sound of bleeding,_ mutters Dirk.   _Just because they’re not killing you right now doesn’t mean they won’t in the near future._

 _Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan,_ Dave replies, trying to focus on the troll’s movements and putting his thoughts into words at the same time.

“You’re a very silent human,” the troll observes, and their red lenses gleam in the mushroom-light as they turn their head.  “Are you scared?”

Dave tosses his head, as regally as only royalty can.  “Wrong on both counts, _bhuro_.  I can be as talkative as a barrel full drunk fucking monkeys when I don’t have a _sword_ pointed at me.  But I’m not scared.”

“I find that difficult to believe.  Also, what did you just call me?”

“ _Bhuro_?”

“Yes, that!  I heard you call your windy friend that earlier and he seems obviously human-male!  Do you think I am a boy, human?”

“I think you’re pointing a sword at me,” says Dave, storing away the knowledge that this creepy troll has been apparently been following them unnoticed for an unknown amount of time.  “I was a little more interested in that than sorting out your gender.  I thought trolls didn’t do that stuff, anyway.”

She—probably, anyway—snorts.  “I am female and I am also unimpressed by your ignorance!”

“Well you should be, I’ve got mad wicked amounts of the stuff when it comes to trolls.  Are you going to stand here all night making small talk or is there a point to this?  If you don’t stab me soon I’m going to die of fucking boredom.  I’m kind of interested in why you’re here at all, though, if not for stabbing reasons.”

“Hm.”  She circles around to his side, and Dave only turns slightly to keep his eyes on her—she’s still pointing the sword at him and he might as well present as small a target as possible.  “...Well, not that it’s any of your business, but I’m here looking for...someone I know.  She has made a very poor decision and I have to bring her back.  I had hoped she would attack you while I was following your band, but so far she seems unable to find you.  It is kind of disappointing!”

“Wow, yeah.  What a shame.”

 _Dave,_ says Dirk quietly.

_One second._

“What is your name, human?”

“ _Masth’afkhu_ Dave Strider of Likhal,” he says immediately.  “But since not everyone speaks the language of my dead and boring ancestors, you can call me Crown Prince Dave.”

He’s not sure why he decided using the title was a good idea.  Maybe he just thought it would be funny.  And she does laugh, which makes her voice jump into a higher register for the first time.  It sounds like a cicada with hiccups, but the point of the sword doesn’t waver even a fraction of an inch.

“Are you choking on something?” he asks coolly, aware that it’s a stupid thing to say but also distinctly aware that she knows he knows that.

The rough peals of laughter turn into stifled chirrups and she says, in what is _probably_ only false offense, “Why, Crown Prince Dave human Strider, how culturally insensitive!  This is coming from a species whose laughter sounds like the fear-sounds of grubs whose tymbal membranes haven’t developed… For a prince, you display an astounding lack of diplomacy.”

“That’s Rose’s job,” says Dave, and then, “…are you going to stab me?  I really thought that would feature somewhere in here.”

Her smile is very broad and full of teeth.  “Oh, I don’t think so.  I don’t know what it would do yet.  Anyway, this has been very…interesting, but I’m not after you or your silly friends.  I’m waiting for someone else, someone who’s been hunting you for a while now.  I’ve found you first, so all I have to do is wait for her.  I’ll be watching you!”

“And how do you know I won’t come after you if you leave now?” asks Dave, turning to face her full-on and disregarding the razor edge now once more hovering near his sternum.

 _Uh, Dave,_ says Dark.

_Not now, I’m trying to get information!_

_Dave._

The troll girl’s face pinches slightly in a way that suggests she’s narrowing her eyes behind those red glasses.  “Don’t think you can distract me with your shameless display of weird brown human skin, Dave!  Escaping will be quite simple…allow me to _demonstrate_.”

And she thrusts the sword forcefully at his chest.  Dave, who was half-expecting this, skips backwards, raising his own sword—

\--and falls bodily into the hot bathwater.

When he surfaces, spluttering and steaming, the only sign that the troll was ever here is the faint echo of chirruping laughter.

 _And that’s what I was trying to warn you about,_ says Dirk.   _But did you listen?  No, you were too busy flirting._

 _Shut up,_ thinks Dave, and shoves his sopping pants in his storage deck before sinking up to his nose in the spring.  Might as well take a bath.

He wanders back after an hour, which is longer than he expected it to spend in the water, but he’s clean and refreshed for the first time in days so it’s worth it.

“Hey,” he says, entering the warm light of the little salamander house, “I met one of the trolls in person just now and she didn’t try to kill or kidnap me.  I don’t think it was one of the ones talking to you guys, but definitely with them.”

“Speak of the devil!” Jade remarks, glancing at Rose and the little white .ex file standing on her palm.  “Metaphorically, I mean.”

Rose, who has been awaiting Kanaya’s reply impatiently since early in the evening, nods curtly.  Waving at Dave to continue, she steps outside to read it.  The air is cool and damp outside, smelling of moss and mold and the faint, musty smell of mushrooms.  Rose takes a moment to remember where they were in the conversation.  Then, a faint smile on her face, she opens the message.

_Since You And Your Friends Haven’t Accessed Your Magia Yet, This Won’t Be An Issue…Yet.  But We Trolls Do Refer To Our Wiser Selves By Titles To Avoid Using Their Names.  Please Tell Your Friends That If You Ever Do Awaken Your Magia, They Must Find New Names For Their Wiser Selves In Order To Avoid The Situation I Mentioned Earlier._

_When We Are Young, We Awaken Our Magia By A Very Specific Process, But I Am Reluctant To Share It Here In Case It Would Be Ineffective In Your Case.  It Can Be Dangerous, Even For Trolls._

_That Said, I’m Surprised But Truly Impressed That You Worked Out How To Share Your Wiser Selves With Others So Early On!  I’m Sure Some Of My Friends Would Be Amused By The Name “Brain Ghosts”, Too…  But For The Record, When A Troll Mage Uses Their Magia Too Recklessly, Submitting To The Will Of Their Wiser Selves Too Frequently, Their Wiser Self Can Become Unruly._

_I Don’t Know How Much Damage You Four Could Do, Considering That You Can’t Actually Use Your Magia Yet…  But Your Wiser Selves Are Spiritually Very Young, Unlike Ours, Which Have Matured Alongside Us, For Better Or Worse.  I Beg You To Consider Your Treatment Of Them Very Carefully!_

_All Of This Is Another Reason Why, If A Truce Could Be Arranged, It Would Be Best For Us To Meet In Person.  There Is Much About Magia That Cannot Be Effectively Taught Over Long Distances!_

Kanaya’s concern is adorable as ever, and such an inviting target for gentle teasing.  But Rose, aware that this might not be the best response to her friend’s concern, and curious about certain points mentioned, decides to refrain from initiating banter.

_Again, I don’t mean to pry, but you speak as though you have experience with this phenomenon--the corruption of a Wiser Self, I mean.  Has one of your friends made this grave mistake?_

The reply is a while in coming—longer in fact than any other message from Kanaya has taken when they’re exchanging in real-time like this.

_I Confess I Had Hoped You Would Not Ask This.  I Haven’t Told Anyone About It, Even Close Friends…Although Perhaps I Should Have.  I Suppose My Reluctance Might Be A Result Of The Incident I Am About To Relate To You!  Rose…I Hope You Will Not Be Too Disturbed By It.  I Wouldn’t Want You To Think Less Of Me For It._

_Do You Remember That I Once Had A Filled Quadrant? I Had A Moirail, A Girl Named Vriska Serket.  We Were Both Quite Young, But She Was…Something Of A Prodigy And Felt Inclined To Use Her Phosmagia For Any Small Thing.  Her Wiser Self, Mindfang, Therefore Began To Enjoy An Inadvisable Amount Of Sway Over Vriska And, Indeed, Often Acted Without Her Permission, Even Manifesting Without Being Called Upon._

_All Quadrants Involve Some Form Of Physical Contact, Albeit In Different Ways.  Moirails Often Touch Each Other Platonically, Usually With The Function Of Calming Or Comforting Each Other…_

_I’m Sorry, This Is Still Very Difficult For Me To Talk About._

_Vriska And I Had Already Shared Our Wiser Selves With Each Other, As Is Generally Acceptable Upon Entering A Quadrant Relationship With Someone.  I Was Dozing, Not Quite Asleep But Not Conscious Of My Surrounding Either…  It’s A State Of Calm That We Don’t Often Enter Outside The Company Of A Conciliatory Quadrantmate._

_But My Wiser Self, The Dolorosa, Was Also Manifest At That Point, And Although I Didn’t Notice, Vriska’s Wiser Self Must Have Appeared At Some Point.  And Because Vriska And I Were In Contact, They Could Be Too…_

Rose reads the rest of the message with a cold stone of dread in her stomach, becoming heavier with every word that passes her eyes.  The account is delicately phrased, sparing details, and ends with the reassurance that Kanaya was alerted and able to intervene before “Worse Things Happened”.  But the damage was done, both to Kanaya’s half-hearted moiraillegiance and her friendship with Vriska Serket.

\--

There’s no point in denying it: the boy in red is interesting.  And not just because the color of his clothes is so delicious!  His strange, short human name, his apparent claim to royalty, the weird way he jokes around that’s sarcastic but not-quite-cruel…

Dave Strider may have been the one who fell over backwards, but it’s Terezi Pyrope who feels distinctly off-balance.  Perched in one of the great turquoise trees that grow thick around the Salamander town, she tries to pull her organize her thoughts.  First, of course, there’s the strange Strider boy.  But that’s not the only thing.

The thing is…

Well, the thing is that her magia told her what the results of Vriska’s choice to leave Allernia might be, but it’s difficult to gauge how she, Terezi, might adjust the outcome to something more favorable.  Nousmagia is tricky for a variety of reasons, not least of which is that no outcome is ever wholly favorable.  All she really knows is that Vriska’s current path will lead all of them to death, and whether Terezi can change that is a totally different matter.  

And she’s becoming more desperate by the minute, especially with the sobering news from Karkat.  A murderous demon...  Well, it’ll have to be pretty damn sneaky if it wants to get the drop on Terezi Pyrope--

A sound to her left makes her glance over, inhaling sharply through her nose, and she gets…black licorice, oily-smooth, moving sleekly and almost invisibly—or insniffably—through the night.

Terezi relaxes into total stillness, but when white eyes with the metallic smell of snow flash in her direction she knows she’s been seen.  Is it worth going for her sword?  Possibly not, but she can at least—

The demon keeps walking.  That in and of itself is peculiar, since if it wanted to cover the largest possible amount of ground in its search she would have expected it to do so in the air.  Those wings can’t possibly be for show.

And it’s heading for the town…

Terezi re-reads the message, a kind of shapeless dread growing in her gut as her nose passes over the line about the human with white ears.

It’s not hard to deduce that to contact Dave Strider she has to send the PM to Aradia’s magia; the red gear on his chest was clearly sniffable even in the blandness of evening.  As soon as the demon is well out of earshot, Terezi essays a hasty PM and programs it under no uncertain conditions to avoid the black demon.  If even the little Midnight Crew viruses can easily dispatch a PM, she doesn’t want to know what this one would do.

If they’re smart, they’ll run.  If not…well, she won’t be around to find out.  With only a tiny pang of sympathy for her new human acquaintance, Terezi vanishes into the night.

\--

“…and then she was gone so I took a bath,” Dave finishes, and then pauses.  After a moment he says, “I’m actually glad Rose wasn’t here to listen to that.  Gods know she’d have been all over the phallic symbolism everywhere.  We both even had fucking swords and shit, and I was practically naked.  Shit, damn, now I’m regretting telling you two about it.  Don’t tell Rose, alright?”

“No promises!” John says breathlessly—he’s been laughing since Dave got to the part where he fell backwards into a hotspring and only just started breathing evenly enough to speak.  

“We’re not talking about this anymore,” says Dave, and turns to Jade.  “Let’s change the subject.  What’s that?”

“It’s from the all-capitals guy,” says Jade, squinting at the PM that arrived while Dave was recounting the tale of his strange encounter.  “And he’s using the gray text again now, I guess?  Guys…ugh, I don’t want to read this…”

Dave takes it from her unresisting hands and reads aloud, “ _What the fuck is this about?  I fucking get it already, you don’t like us and are bent on flaunting your avoidance of justice.   I don’t need your fucking frowny faces reminding me of that!_ ”

“…He sure says fuck a lot,” says John.

“Give me that!”  Jade pulls the PM back towards her, looking indignant.  Her lips move furiously as she re-reads the message, and then she sits back, banging into the wall behind her.  “I don’t _believe_ him!  What does he mean, _‘what is this about’_?! Obviously it’s about the huge paragraphs of horrible red writing he sent me, why is he playing dumb?  Arrrrgghh, I’m _this close_ to just sending him a piece of my mind!”

“Do it,” says John cheerfully.  “And ask him why his text color keeps changing!”

“I agree,” says Dave.  “I’m getting tired of these assholes just being totally incomprehensible.   _Someone_ has to call them out on their bullshit.”

“Unless you’re in _love_ with them,” John adds, jerking his chin in the direction of the door.  Jade gives him a disapproving look, opening her mouth, and then slowly shuts it again.  She seems to consider the comment for a long, thoughtful moment.

Then she says, “Oh my god.”

“Rose _would_ fall in love with a troll,” mutters Dave.

“And you _would_ flirt with one!” Jade giggles, pointing at him.  Dave flushes under his glasses.

“I told you, that was banter!  I was trying to get information out of her and anyway, I didn’t even know it was a her before she told me.  Not that she couldn’t have been lying.  I’m not like you, I don’t flirt with _everyone_!”

“Now you mention it, Dave, I don’t think I’ve actually ever known you to flirt before now,” says John thoughtfully.  “What a thought!”

“And I haven’t seen you flirt either,” Dave retorts, obviously stung.  “At least I have an excuse—we have a _courtship process_ where I come from, and apparently no other country gives a fuck.  Not that I ever cared for it myself, but at least there was a pattern you could follow instead of entering this twisting, incomprehensible labyrinth of great riddling love monsters and coded clues and shit.”

“I _do_ have an excuse,” says John, settling back comfortably against a thick cushion of moss growing on one of the stone walls.  “I’m just not big on flirting or anything that comes from it.  Jade does more than enough of that for both of us.”

“That is true,” says Jade, nodding in agreement.  “While Rose, of course—“

“Rose what?”

Three heads turn guiltily towards the door, where Rose stands in her white undergown and blouse.  Even at this distance, there’s a sense that something’s wrong; her usual knowing smile is missing.  Her face is as blank and flat as Dave’s on a bad day.  They watch nervously as she moves towards them and sits down with stiff grace on one of the mossy stones.  John, who usually takes it upon himself to keep the conversation moving, eventually breaks the silence.

“Oh, Rose!  Now that everyone’s here, Vriska told me something important, I think you guys should know too.  I guess the thing the trolls were doing when we interrupted them was summoning these two demons that are supposed to be able to get any answers you want, but one of them is, like, crazy murderous?  And the other one’s supposed to keep it in line or something.”

Rose, who started at the mention of Vriska’s name, looks up at John with a small frown on her face.  John keeps talking, oblivious to the purple stare leveled in his direction.

“And according to her the murdering one is probably going to come after her and the other trolls soon, but only _after_ it’s found Jade, who’s apparently possessed by the non-murdering one?  So—“

“John,” says Rose, her voice low and hard, “Kanaya has told me things about the troll you’re talking to.  Vriska.  You shouldn’t trust her.  She’s unruly and unrepentant and she…hurt Kanaya in the past.  I don’t see why we should believe anything she says.”

John looks taken aback.  “I don’t know why she would lie about this!  Anyway, isn’t it good to know what they were trying to do?  Now we have more information about the people trying to find us!”

“Maybe so,” says Rose, and leaves it at that.  John looks at her in apparent concern for a little while longer, then sighs and drops his gaze.  It’s almost impossible to convince Rose to talk about something until she’s ready to—and sometimes that’s never.

“Jade,” says John eventually, turning a tentative smile on her, “Jane’s been wanting to talk to Jake again, would you like to give them a little time to talk at some point?”

“Oh, yes!” says Jade enthusiastically, clapping her hands.  “I’ve been wondering how letting them interact would affect them!”

Rose’s eyes widen in a moment of remembrance.  “Wait a moment, I have something else to tell you, about the brain ghosts.  The trolls call them Wiser Selves.”

Jade rubs her chin and _hmmmm_ s.  “Wiser…?  I think they’re great, but I don’t think they seem much wiser than any of us!”

“The troll mages have had them since childhood,” says Rose.  “Apparently they mature with one’s magia, but since we haven’t had ours for very long and haven’t even been able to activate our powers, they’re just as confused as we are.  The important thing, though, is that troll mages refer to their Wiser Selves by titles rather than the names they first appear with.”

“Why?” asks Jade, always keen for new information.  John looks confused.  Dave is affecting boredom.

“Because when a mage with proper powers says their Wiser Self’s name aloud, it initiates a conscious merge of the mage and the Wiser Self called Spiritual Ascension, which augments the mage’s abilities.”

“Sounds great,” says John, eyes wide.  “Why’re you saying that as though it’s a problem?”

“Because it’s been known to kill people who overuse it,” says Rose flatly.

There’s a pause, then Dave, whose relaxed stillness turned subtly into something more statue-like at Rose’s words, stands up with a PM in his hands.

“My turn to vanish with a mysterious mail,” he says, glancing at Rose.  “Just keep making grim announcements, don’t mind me.”

“I never do,” says Rose lightly.  “Keep pretending our, ah, Wiser Self talk isn’t relevant to you, don’t mind me.”

“Glad we understand each other,” Dave mutters, opening the PM.  First he squints, trying to sort out the teal text, half letters and half numbers.

The message is short, to the point, and makes his stomach drop about a foot.

_TH3R3 1S 4 D3MON 1S H34D1ING 1N YOUR D1R3CT1ON, HUM4N D4V3.  1 THOUGHT 1T W4S LOOK1NG FOR M3 BUT 1T P4SS3D M3 BY.  1T M4Y NOT DO SO TH3 N3XT T1M3 1 3NCOUNT3R 1T, SO 1 PL4N TO M4K3 MY W4Y OUT OF 1TS V1C1N1TY._

_TH1S M1GHT B3 4 GOOD T1M3 TO RUN…1F YOU C4N._

\--

_i dont have time to say much but i don’t believe that you dont remember sending the message with all the red text! and its mean and dumb of you to lie about it.  stop bothering us!!!_

Karkat looks blankly down at the message, then lets the Signless fade into view.  Nearby, Eridan hoists himself sluggishly into his recuperacoon, looking like grim death with gills.

 _I’ve never sent a goddamn red-text message,_ he thinks.   _I know I haven’t.  Back me up on this._

 _Why are you asking me?_ says the Signless, leaning in to look at the writing.   _I don’t have a…hhhkk…a comprehensive knowledge of your communication habits—_

 _Fuck,_ thinks Karkat, heading for the door.   _Calm your immaterial tits, Signless, I’m going._

 _Karkat,_ says the Signless, his shoulders trembling as they make their way down the hall, _I never remember much about The Sufferer or anything you do…  You don’t think…_

“Think what?”

_That the messages that human is talking about…were sent…_

“Just fucking let it go,” Karkat mutters, sitting down heavily on the floor of the dark block.

_Okay…okay…_

Karkat looks away from the faint, strained face and the red tears sliding down it.  It always starts this way; he sounds like a child at first, like Karkat did the first time this happened long ago, when he first started hiding his blood color…and, subsequently, his magia.

_It hurts—it hurts—it’s burning me—_

“Yeah, I know,” mutters Karkat, and closes his eyes as the screaming starts.

_It hurts so bad, no, no, NO, NO, NONONO IT’S NOT FUCKING FAIR IT’S NOT FAIR IT’S NOT RIGHT, THESE FUCKERS, YOU BASTARDS, WHY SHOULD I ALWAYS HIDE, WHY—_

The pent up hemomagia wracks Karkat’s body, and even as rivulets of bright red start to drip down the face of his scarlet-glowing Wiser Self, hot wetness bubbles in Karkat’s nose.  He grits his teeth until his jaw aches, aware on some level that if he relaxed it he would wake up in the morning with a swollen, scabbed tongue.  His heart bucks against his ribs, his head throbbing with pressure.  With every pulse, the world flares red and the Sufferer screams louder.

In the grip of unceasing pain, Karkat only dimly notices the door of the block opening a crack.  Then it swings all the way open and the light coming through the door makes him yell hoarsely; how loudly he can’t tell through the ringing in his ears and the Sufferer’s screaming, but the approaching silhouette hesitates.  Then they vanish in a haze of red.

Karkat can feel his mouth making words, but what exactly they are he can’t tell—although at times he feels like he’s syncing up with the Sufferer’s agonized stream of profanity.  Something wraps around his wrist and he twists wildly, fear cutting through the rage burning his chest.

_“Kar?  Karkat!”_

With a yell that cuts through even the Sufferer’s voice, Karkat lashes out wildly with one arm and catches the intruder across their face.  The pressure on his wrist vanishes even as the wildness of the unleashed hemomagia begins slowly to recede.  His arched torso collapses to the ground and for the first time he can hear his own breathing—harsh breaths interspersed with more heartfelt swearing.

In the darkness beside him, the Signless drops to his knees.  His glow has returned to a soft dove-gray and the movement blood coursing down his face has slowed.

_Aagh…fuck…f…  Karkat.  So tired, can I…_

“Yeah,” Karkat mumbles, letting his burning eyes fall closed as the Signless vanishes.  He can feel the tears in his lips, reopened by stretching his mouth to its limit, and he winces as he runs his tongue over the open wounds.

“Kar, what the actual _fuck_ ,” says a voice.  Aching and delirious, Karkat looks up into a smooth, finned face that looks torn between annoyance and concern.

Karkat glares blearily up at his blockmate, trying to focus.  “Go ‘way.  Fuck fuck fuck.”

“Kar, are you drunk?”

Karkat breathes in through a torn, sour-tasting throat and marshalls an eloquent, crushing retort.  “Nneerrrrr,” he says.

“Alright,” says Eridan, rolling his eyes, “c’mere, and don’t fuckin’ hit me again, alright?”

It takes a while to get Karkat situated with an arm over Eridan’s shoulder, but eventually Karkat’s on his feet again and somewhat able to walk.  Staggering and groaning, they make their way up the passage to their block.

\--

Tensions run high as the four travelers pack their storage decks once again.

“A troll Dave has only spoken to _once--_ with a sword pointed at his chest, no less--tells us to run, so we should just run?” asks Rose testily.  “I’d like a little more corroboration!”

“Then ask dear Kanaya,” snaps Dave, who’s already standing by the door.  “You can do it while we’re on the move!”

“Dave!” says Jade, giving him a sharp look.  “Attitude isn’t going to help, cut it out!  All of us are tired and nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” Dave mutters, but he doesn’t catch Rose’s eye again, nor she his, although she still hasn’t started packing.

“And I’m not leaving,” she says with cold patience.  “Maybe I _will_ send Kanaya a message.”

Dave turns around with his face set in a scowl, but John speaks first, stepping up to face Rose, looking uncharacteristically serious.

“It’s not going to hurt us just to get out of the town,” he says, open palms extended in a placatory gesture.

Rose narrows her eyes.  “And then what?  We’ll spend the night in the forest for no reason?  I was looking forward to staying indoors, and even if the demon does arrive, I doubt it would be much of a match for us.”

“If it’s going to kill whatever gets in its way, I don’t want to risk the salamanders!” says John stubbornly.  “They trust us!  And if Vriska was lying and she really just wants to, to get us on our own to kill us or whatever, I’m pretty sure we could take her too!”

Rose chews her lower lip for a moment, then sighs and says, “Alright.  Alright, let’s go.  If I’m right, though…”

“You can say ‘I told you so’ as many times as you want, yes,” says John, and tosses Rose the pack of clothes she pulled out of her storage deck earlier in the evening.

They move out in fairly short order after that, with only the briefest stop at the residence of Salamander town’s mayor to explain the situation.  John explains that they “have someone they might need to meet” and “they really can’t ask any salamanders to accompany them”.

Fortunately, the amphibians are naturally unquestioning creatures and their leader waves the travelers off with a magnanimous foreleg hung with smudged white cloth.

“That’s my old bedsheet,” says John wistfully as he glances back at the salamander and its robes.  “I didn’t want to part with it, but you know how it is with salamanders and people they hero-worship.”

Jade nods understandingly.  Rose and Dave, momentarily forgetting they’re angry with each other, share a disparaging glance.  Then they seem to realize they’re still fighting and turn abruptly to face the front again, and tired silence reigns again.

They’re well out into the woods by the time Rose voices the thought in everyone’s minds.

“…Well, no sign of any demons so far.  Are we going to build a fire or do you think that would attract this malicious .ex file from the beyond?”

And by this point, everyone is too tired to argue.  Jade, who’s been saving a fire spell card in her storage deck for a special occasion, crouches on the forest floor and arranges some rocks into a haphazard circle.  A pricked thumb, a drop of blood, and the little white square of parchment emits a small, floating golden flame.  

As her companions settle down, exhausted, Jade constructs a careful lean-to of kindling over the flame.  After only a moment, the dried sticks start burning, casting a faint, warm glow over the trees around them.  Looking up, Jade finds her eyes caught by a particularly close shadow behind Rose.  As she watches, it seems to shift, gleaming slightly.

A pair of black, feathery wings flares against the shadows.

“Oh, fuck,” says Jade.


	4. In Which Battle is Done, Sacrifices are Made, and Things Generally Go Poorly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several uncoordinated attempts to fight the deadly black demon prove that it's more than either its summoners or the human travelers can handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's going to be a while before the final chapter goes up, since it's not finished. Just a second reminder! Thanks for reading so far, I really appreciate the kudos and reviews! <3

“Feelin’ any better?” asks Eridan, a little sourly.  The purpling bruise on his cheek has started swelling and he keeps running his fingers over it with deep, morose sighs.

“Leave that alone, you’ll only make it worse,” Karkat mutters.  “It’s your fault for trying to hold me still, asshole.”

“My teachers are gonna start askin’ whether I got in a fight!” Eridan snaps.  “D’you know how hard things are already?  All this stress is bringin’ down my grades!  Also, _again_ , what the fuck is goin’ on with you, anyway?”

“That’s none of your business,” Karkat growls.  “Stop sounding so concerned, it’s repulsive.  I already have a moirail, remember?”

“Yeah, an’ have you talked to Gam about all the bleedin’ and screamin’ you do in your spare time?  Anyway, you bug me about my feelin’s for Fef often enough, you should know I got no designs on your pale quadrant!”

“Again,” says Karkat, trying for loftiness, “none of your damn business!  I’m not required to talk to Gamzee about _everything_ , am I?”

“You tell me,” says Eridan, folding his arms.  “You’re the romantic expert here!”

“True enough.”

“I was speakin’ sarcastically.”

“Doesn’t make it less true.  Anyway, I’m always trying to help Gamzee with his Wiser Self issues…you remember what happened way back when, with—“

“Equ and Nep, yeah.”

“Don’t interrupt me! Anyway, since all that happened he’s been trying to fix things in his head and I don’t feel like I can help him if I’m having the same problems he was.  So he can’t know?”

“Okay, an’ what about the rest of us?  What about your other friends, Kar?  You didn’t think maybe your blockmates would want to know about this maybe?”

Karkat gives him a disgusted glare.  “Oh, yeah, I really want everyone to know what color my gross mutant blood is, and also that I routinely find a secluded place to let it fight its way out of me in the most painful way possible!  That seems like a great fucking idea that would really get me tons of respect from everyone I know.  You’ve solved all my problems, Ampora!  Good job!”

“Wow, no need to be harsh, gods!  Just tryin’ to help you out here and you bite my head off, real nice!”

Karkat lets himself fall back against his recuperacoon, wishing groggily that he were in it as his head starts to pound again.  “Man, you know what you should be doing?  Taking that black-and-purple face of yours to Feferi and trying to look as pitiable as fucking possible.  See if she’ll put some antiseptic and a stickpatch on it.”

Eridan droops slightly as well, eyes wandering to the door as though Feferi’s about to walk through it.  “…You know, I don’t think I’m gettin’ anywhere there.  Might be time to let it go and accept that I’ll remain quadrantless forever.  I think I could accept eternal loneliness, y’know?  Part of my lot in life as an erudite scholar of—“

“At least ask her first!” Karkat snaps.  “Gods, you can still be friends later but you might as well ask her for real before you go around moping and weeping soppy tears into everyone’s clothing!  We’re probably all going to die soon anyway.”

Eridan stares at him, mouth opening shutting with slow, fish-like regularity.  Finally he manages, “You sound just like Sol.”

“Yeah, well, maybe the maggot-riddled pailbrain is onto something for once,” Karkat mumbles, looking away.  “The demon’s still out there and everything is going wrong.”

“Is it?” asks Eridan, blinking in confusion.

“I don’t know where anyone is,” says Karkat, and breathes deeply as his veins shiver under his skin.  “ _...godsdamn aftershocks…_  I don’t know what they’re doing, and I don’t know how to fix this.  But everyone else fucking seems to think they do!  The last thing I heard from Terezi was that she was going to kill Vriska herself if it came down to it, I mean _fuck_!”

Eridan groans, looking as tired as Karkat feels.  “…Go to sleep, Kar, the sun’s comin’ up.  An’ do me a favor, alright?  Talk to Gam about this shit.  I can deal with quadrant talk but all your personal problems are makin’ me all sortsa uncomfortable.  You realize I got no idea what to say when you get like this?”

Karkat grunts and hauls himself into his recuperacoon, sinking clothes and all into the warmth of the lime-green sopor slime.

\--

The demon looks like an .ex file, but much, much larger—taller than any of them.  It’s black and slim, all sharp corners and sleek, faceted surfaces.  Its face ends in a proud, pointed muzzle and its black ears swivel towards the faintest sounds.

The four travelers, who retreated immediately to the other side of the clearing, watch their visitor from across the tiny, dying fire.

“Strife decks,” murmurs Dave, watching its pearly white eyes.  They give absolutely no hint of its next movement…or intended target.

“…It doesn’t seem to be attacking,” says Jade slowly, and the tone of analytic intrigue in her voice sends a thrill of dread up the back of Dave’s neck.

“Jade,” he says urgently as she takes a tentative step forward.  “Everyone we’ve talked to about this thing has told us to get as far away from it as possible!”

The creature walks up to Jade, its joints clicking softly, moving with oily smoothness.  She doesn’t step back, instead meeting its gaze head-on and holding her ground.  The pointed white ears on top of her head are cocked in alertness, and Dave notices with a mounting sense of unease that they’re almost identical those of the creature.  The girl and the demon circle slowly around the fire, Jade’s friends edging to stay on her side.

So what else ended up in Jade after that night?  This isn’t troll magia, Dave’s almost completely certain of that now.  This is something else.

Jade and the demon stare at each other, eye contact unbroken even by blinking, for a very long moment.  And then, suddenly, a flickering channel appears between their eyes.  Jade’s body relaxes, her mouth going slack, and the white ears twitch forward.  

Dave reaches for his strife deck, but Rose puts a gentle hand on his shoulder, murmuring, “Wait…”

Dave grits his teeth and speaks through them—“But we don’t know what it’s doing to her.”

“She doesn’t seem to be in pain…listen, _listen_ , please.  I have a feeling that whatever we do, it can’t have worse results than interrupting whatever they’re doing now.”

“I don’t _like_ it,” Dave growls.  “We could take that thing, you said so yourself.”

“And I’m starting to doubt that after reassessment!” Rose hisses.  “Listen to me!”

“Rose, I think we should stop it too,” says John, taking a step towards Jade and the creature.  “This isn’t right.  This isn’t Jade!  And it’s kind of reminding me of some bad rumors I’ve read about on forums…  We don’t know what—“

It’s at this moment that Dave lunges forward between the two, opening his strife deck just as he breaks Jade’s line of sight.  He swings the sword he equipped in a perfect, liquid arc but the black creature slips away, white eyes focused balefully on Dave now.  Slowly, it raises one gleaming hand and then stabs with the speed of a striking snake.  

Dave raises his sword to parry, but the thrusting claws don’t seem to have been aimed at his body.  Instead they pierce the air to the left of his head, where the boxy outline of his strife deck flickers into view for a moment before the creature jerks its hand back, drawing another of Dave’s swords out of thin air.

Dave gasps and then yells as Jade grabs the back of his collar to haul him away from the cutting edge of his own blade.

John is already sunk low, bouncing the weight of his best hammer in both hands.  Rose is poised and straight-backed, fingers wrapped elegantly around her needles.  As Jade and Dave retreat, they move forward, ready to attack.

But for the moment, the creature doesn’t seem interested in fighting.  It tilts the sword from one side to another in its claws as though admiring the shine, and then grips the hilt tightly and raises the sword in front of its face.  A jet-black lacquer spreads from its hand over the rest of the sword until it’s the same glossy pitch as the rest of the creature.  

It narrows its eyes and cocks its heads, and around it an array of tiny black and white shapes flash into existence.

“That’s my PM,” John whispers indignantly.  “And Rose’s WV, and…all of them!  What’s it—“

It only takes a quick, cursory slash to destroy every single .ex file the travelers own.  The little sprits dissipate into black and white pixels in the air.

“I didn’t like that at fucking _all_ ,” says Dave, glaring through his smoked-glass lenses.  “Jade, what did it do?”

“It stole something out of your strife deck,” says Jade.  “Only a virus can do that, same as only a virus can kill other .ex files, but…I’ve never seen an .ex file this big.  And I’ve never seen it…repurpose something like that.  And…and…is it watching me?”

Experimentally, to a chorus of _“Jade, no!”_ s and _“Are you crazy”_ s, she extends one hand and swings it slowly back and forth.  The thing’s black muzzle follows her movements as though hypnotized.

Then, suddenly, like a dog jumping in readiness to play, it leaps backwards and hops from foot to foot, body low, baring a mouth full of sharp white teeth in what could almost be a grin.

“Um,” says Jade, “I think he wants to play.”

“Aw!” says John, relaxing slightly.  His hammer drops a little in his hands.

Instantly, the pointed black head snaps around to look at him.  Everyone tenses; John raises the hammer again, muttering, _“Not aw.”_

“Alright,” says Rose, “that seems threatening.”

Jade steps abruptly in front of the demon, careful to keep one arm between herself and its sword-arm.  “Hey!  Look at me, I’m in charge!”

“She can’t do this indefinitely,” says Dave.  “Jade, you need to get away from it.”

Jade looks back, frowning.  “But—“

And then a lot of things happen at once.

The black demon, freed from Jade’s line of sight, makes a lightning-fast move for John, who barely has time to blink before a great wave of black energy knocks everyone, including the demon onto their backs.

“Alright, I’ **ve had juszt aboudt enoubje dof thiesss,”** growls Rose, whose needles are glowing black. When she takes the first step towards the demon, bits of forest debris rise around her feet.

John looks up groggily and says, “What’s…?”

**_“”…gdravpe dtoz’wen ni wozcak skiensl wbsok…””_ **

“Oh, fuck,” says Dave, in a quiet but heartfelt tone.  “Oh, _fuck_ , she’s doing it again, not again—“

“What?  Dave, what?  What’s she—”

Rose’s skin is mottled ash-gray, purple shadows like thunderclouds blossoming around her eyes, which have gone milky white. Patches of black have begun to appear on the white of her dress, as though oil oozing from her skin is soaking through the fabric.  Her voice drops an octave, and then another, and then becomes a discordant mess like fifty voices at once.

“What is she doing?” Jade shouts over the noise.

“ _Praying_ ,” says Dave, and he looks afraid but not of the demon.  All of his attention is fixed on Rose.

John stares.  “What, to her crazy squid gods?  But she does that before meals too and it’s never--”

“This is a different kind of prayer!  I’ve only seen her do this once before, it’s a last-ditch thing and it’s dangerous as hell!”

**“”…gl’olyb doalymd slesken’w asiclebd…””**

“Well what do we _do_?” asks Jade.  She’s staring at Rose’s slowly rising form in wide-eyed, terrified curiosity.

“We stay out of her way,” says Dave.

Before John or Jade can reply to this, Rose makes her first move.  None of them were fast enough to match the demon’s movements before, but now she flows like smoke, her skirts snaking behind her in sharp angles and swirling curves.  Her needles flash black.

Watching the two of them fight is eye-boggling—a storm of great blasts and strange, unearthly noises and the ring of metal on metal.

“Holy _shit_ ,” says John, staring up at the sparking, groaning storm.  “Holy shit, Dave, there really isn’t anything we can do to help?”

“Last time this happened and I got in front of her I got grazed by one of those black fire shots!” Dave replies, shouting over the noise.  “She didn’t even know it was me until it started wearing off, and after that I had grimsickness for a week!  Nausea, eyes weeping black oil, the whole nine yards!”

“Well…well _okay_ ,” says Jade desperately, “but Dave, I think she’s losing!”

It’s hard to tell in the cold, dancing anti-light, but it seems as though Dave pales slightly.

“No…that’s not possible.  That’s not—“

One of Rose’s bolts catches the demon in the chest, and then its black sword sweeps across Rose’s belly, leaving a single dark gash.  John and Jade shout and Dave stiffens abruptly as both duelists drop to the ground.  Rose is bleeding but the wound doesn’t seem to go any deeper, and the demon…

The demon is twitching and jerking, still making fluid, lightning-fast movements but only managing to move a foot or two with each jolt.

“I think it’s damaged,” Jade whispers quickly, and then strides without hesitation towards the bowed, panting Rose—but not fast enough.  The demon draws its new sword back for a stab, and then…

It stops.

It raises its muzzle and sniffs deeply.  And then, with what seems to be a great effort, it twists and limps away.

Then Rose drops to the ground, and Dave comes running forward, falling to his knees next to her and swearing profusely.  “Rose!  Godsdammit, you almost _died_ last time you did that, I can’t even believe— _mafakhin damas_ I’m going to kill you—“

Rose’s skin seems to writhe alarmingly for a moment and Jade gasps.  John looks like he might throw up.  Dave, however, is digging feverishly in his storage deck.

“Come on, come on, come on…”

“Dave, what are you looking for?” asks Jade urgently.  “Tell me, I can help!”

“She gave me this holy water stuff, back after she did this the first time, because I was like, you can’t just steal everyone’s thunder like a fucking greedy storm god and do the whole tragic hero thing.  Just hogging all that thunder for yourself, people down on the ground are wondering why there isn’t any noise after the lightning.  What happened to our natural phenomena, they’re—“

“Dave!”

“—Right, right, okay, here it is.”  Dave withdraws a barely-shaking hand from his deck and uncorks the small glass phial he’s holding.  “Jade, we need to boil this and let her breathe in the steam.  And if you have any good healing herbs or whatever, she said it was a universal spirit solvent, it’ll take any additional ingredients’ qualities.”

“I’ll restart the fire,” says John, who still looks distinctly unwell.  “Are you sure it’s safe to stay here?”

“I’m not sure we have a choice,” says Dave tightly.  “We’ll have to bank on having some time before it comes back, but fuckin’ pray it doesn’t.  I just gotta wonder why it left.”

\--

Terezi, half-submerged in stream water, wonders with disgruntled anxiety whether water will really be enough to throw off this particular tracker’s nose.  At least the Rose human’s coal-stinking black magic was enough to slow it down a bit, and Terezi is _very_ fast.  She might even be outside of the thing’s sensory range by now.  She sends off a PM to the only human she’s communicated with so far, if only for the distraction of gloating.

_1 HOP3 YOU 4PPR3C14T3D MY 4SS1ST4NC3 TH3R3. 1 S4W YOU W3R3 1N ON3 OF YOUR HUM4N P1CKL3S AND THOUGHT M4YB3 1T WOULD B3 4BL3 TO SM3LL TH3 M4G14 OF ON3 OF 1TS SUMMON3RS 4ND M4K3 M3 1TS F1RST PR1OR1TY, SO 1 C4M3 CLOS3 3NOUGH TO L3T 1T D3T3CT M3._

_YOU 4R3 LUCKY, FOR TH3 T1M3 B31NG, TH4T 1 D1D NOT 4CT1V4T3 YOUR M4G14, S1NC3 1T B3LONGS TO ON3 OF TH3 TROLLS WHO SUMMON3D TH3 D3MON AND BY 4LL 4CCOUNTS THOS3 SUMMON3RS W1LL B3 TH3 D3MON’S PR1M4RY T4RG3TS FROM NOW ON._

_1’M SUR3 YOU 4R3 V3RY CONC3RN3D, BUT 1 4M 4L1V3 FOR NOW.  TH4T S41D, TH3 WORST-C4S3 S1TU4T1ON IS UPON US.  1T W1LL L1K3LY NOT STOP UNT1L 4LL TW3LV3 OF US 4R3 D34D.  YOU M4Y H4V3 SLOW3D 1T BUT 1 DONT TH1NK 3V3N TH3 FOUR OF YOU COULD H4V3 D3F34T3D IT TOG3TH3R. YOU H4V3 ONLY G1V3N US 4 L1TTL3 MOR3 T1M3._

_1N L1GHT OF TH1S, 1 TH1NK 1T’S T1M3 FOR M3 TO GO HOM3._

She does send a few more messages before starting the long march down the riverbed, to key recipients.  On one in particular she hesitates before sending, but no matter how much she hates an enemy, that enemy is still a friend.

_H3Y SP1D3RB1TCH,_

_D3MON’S V1S1T3D TH3 HUM4NS 4ND NOW 1T’S COM1NG FOR 4LL OF US. K33P 4 COUPL3 3Y3S OUT FOR 1T._

\--

“What _is_ this?” growls Equius, practically gagging on the words as he surveys the scene before them.  “Some kind of...rustblood culling?”

Nepeta shakes her head, crouching next to the corpse.  “Humans only have one blood color, remember?”

“Ridiculous,” Equius mutters faintly, and pulls a white towel out of his storage deck.  Nepeta glances up and him, frowning, as he mops his sweat-slick forehead with it, staring dazedly at the tiny campsite where a human hunter apparently intended to spend the night. The embers of the fire are still red.

“You need to sit down,” she says firmly.  “I’ll look at the body, blood doesn’t bother me!”

“I _don’t_ need to sit down,” Equius replies, just as firmly.  “What I--what we both need to do, for gosh sakes, is to continue our hunt for the humans!  If they had not canterrupted our summoneighing--”

“You _do_ need to sit down!” Nepeta exclaims, springing up and putting both hands on his shoulders.  “You always make more horse puns when you’re upset!  And, I mean, I think the humans should know about this but first you should read this PM I just got from Terezi…”

There’s a long moment of silence, during which Equius sinks slowly to the ground, his eyes fixed on the message.

Eventually he says, rather hoarsely, “...Do you think, then, that we should return home?”

“Yeah,” says Nepeta, glancing at the hunter’s perforated body.  “I think the rest are going to need all the help they can get.”

Equius’s face hardens and he pushes himself once more to his feet, sliding his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.  “Then we had best start moving promptly.  If the demon has already been through here, it may already be on its way to Allernia.”

\--

The morning comes gray and damp but not as chill as it could have been.  The fire is still burning.  Despite everyone’s resolve to stay up with Rose, all of them have dropped off to sleep on the forest floor nearby.  Even John, who has real difficulty falling asleep when there’s an ill or wounded friend to be looked after, is out cold, one hand still resting with a damp towel on Rose’s forehead.

In the pale dawn light, her eyes slide slowly open.  They are tired, bloodshot, and have pupils again.  She tries a deep, refreshing inhale…

The other three wake up to the sound of violent, hacking coughs.  Jade pats Rose on the back with a comforting hand as she bends double, spitting up black phlegm onto the leaves.

Her  heavy, blackened dress is removed and burned, and at Jade’s firm insistence, Rose hobbles back towards the salamander village with an arm over Jade’s shoulder.  They return an hour later looking a great deal cleaner, and with the good news that the demon doesn’t seem to have visited the salamanders.

“I could’ve used another hotsprings visit myself, filthy motherfucker that I am,” says Dave, but without much conviction.  He gives Rose a quick looking-over.  “…You seem a little better.”

“She had to do some more gross hacking, but the bath was good for her,” says Jade cheerfully.

Rose nods slowly, and it’s true that while she looks as though she’s having a flu and hangover simultaneously, she at least no longer looks on the verge of death.

“You remembered the tincture,” she says in a hoarse voice, looking up at Dave.  “I’m impressed.  And grateful.”

Dave shrugs, apparently uncomfortable with having genuine praise directed his way.  “…What else was I supposed to do?”

“Panic, run through about five long-winded metaphors, and forg…”  Rose trails off into damp coughs, pausing only to accept a flask of water from John.

“I had John and Jade to help me with that,” says Dave, nodding to each of them in turn.  “I was really starting to get into it, long-winded as fuck like you said, longer winds than a three-month desert storm, and they interrupted me and made me do useful things.  It was pretty boss.”

“Wow, Dave, that was actually really nice!” Jade chirps, leaning around Dave to peer up at his face.  “Are you sure _you’re_ feeling okay?”

“I think,” says Dave, “it’s time all of you met Dirk.  I can still call him that, right?”

“…Dirk?” says John, who looks utterly confused.  “Who’s—“

“Your Wiser Self?” asks Jade, her eyes widening.  One of her hands darts to her storage deck, fumbling for a moment and then emerging with a notebook at the ready.

Dave nods and then frowns slightly, tilting his head to one side.

After a long pause, Jade ventures, “…Are you talking to him?”

Dave nods once, still apparently distracted by whatever’s going on in his head.  They wait in awkwardly respectful silence for the inaudible conversation to conclude.

Finally, Dave turns and says, “He’s agreed to it.”

“About time!” says Jade, straightening eagerly.  “Can we do this all at once?  Here, Rose, John, both of you put a hand on Dave.”

“Uh,” says Dave.

“It’s for science!  Okay, whenever you’re ready.”

Dave, one hand in Jade’s and the other covered by John’s and Rose’s, clears his throat uncertainly and says, “...it’d cool with me if you guys could see Dirk.”

And there he is.

“He’s taller than I expected!” says Jade.  “A lot taller than you, Dave!  I wonder if that’s significant…”

 _Your name is Dirk?_ asks Roxy eagerly.   _Wow, hi!_

 _Hello,_ says Dirk.  His voice is rough but light, and like Dave his face is mainly impassive.  But there is something about the way he shifts from foot to foot and doesn’t look at any one of the other Wiser Selves for longer than a couple seconds that suggests he’s uncomfortable.

 _Hello, Dirk!_ says Jake, waving cheerfully.   _We’ve been waiting a while to meet you, old fellow!_

Jane moves shyly around John to extend a small hand to Dave’s Wiser Self.  He only hesitates for a moment before engulfing it with his large, gloved one.

“Why did you wait so long?” asks Rose, looking from Dirk to Dave, asking both of them.  They share a look, though whether it’s a private psychic conversation or shared moment between stoics is anyone’s guess.

 _I told him not to mention me,_ says Dirk finally.   _I didn’t want to be seen.  I thought I would be more of an advantage if I were kept secret._

Jade looks intrigued.  “Advantage?  In what scenario?”

“Secrets mean control in royal court,” says Dave, before Dirk can reply.  “That’s something we learned a long time ago.  I’ve been unlearning it, but Dirk—“

“He expresses whatever you instinctively know to be wise,” says Rose, staring with eyes almost as wide and curious as Jade’s.  “Perhaps his perception of what is truly wise will deepen with your own maturation and the use of your magia?”

 _Then we’re all totally fucked,_ Roxy remarks baldly, and gives Rose a crooked smile as the girl turns to look at her.   _I mean, you don’t know how to get to the magia, do you?  You just have the tattoos._

“If that’s even what they are,” Rose murmurs, brushing her chest with her free hand.

 _Close enough,_ says Dirk suddenly.  He seems relieved by the turn of the conversation.   _Have you ever wondered how you’re supposed to make your powers work?_

Rose opens her mouth for a moment, and then shuts it slowly, looking away.  “…I have, but nothing seems both practical and plausible.  And Kanaya won’t tell me for her own mysterious reasons...  Perhaps we should focus on the matter at hand.”

 _Does that mean letting go?_ asks Dirk quietly, glancing at Jake.

“Yeah,” says Dave, his own head tilting just a fraction of an inch in Jade’s direction.  “But you can see them later, _bhuro_.  Come on, I’ll let you out if there’s something you need to say and I feel you knocking.”

 _…Fine._ Dirk nods shortly to each of the other Wiser Selves in turn.   _It was…good to meet you.  Finally._

And then their hands drop and the connection is lost.

“So where do we go from here?” asks John, settling back against a tree trunk.  “The demon hasn’t come back, but if it’s going to kill all of the trolls…I mean, Dave got a PM from the creepy one and she really seems to think it’s going to kill _all_ of them.  The trolls who summoned it, I mean.”

Rose shifts uneasily.  “It is possible it came after us in the first place either because it saw us upon its summoning, or because it was able to track the magia in us somehow and match it to that of the ones that summoned it.”

“Or because of Jade,” says Dave suddenly.  As one, the other two travelers turn to look at Jade, who raises one self-conscious hand to the ears on top of her head.

“It acted really weird around you,” says John, his brow furrowed.  “Vriska said there were two demons, and the other one…”  His eyes widen suddenly, shockingly blue and round.  “Oh!   _Oh._ Guys, I’m really sorry, she told me something before we went to the hotsprings and I totally forgot because I thought we could handle a demon--I mean, we’ve fought small ones before, right?  So--”

“ _John_...” Rose begins suspiciously, and John flushes, averting his eyes from her expectant gaze.

“There, uh...there might be a demon in Jade.  That the other one was looking for.  So Dave was right, except now that the black one’s found Jade, I think it’s going to go try and kill the trolls…”

“There’s a _demon_ in me?” asks Jade, her face lighting up.  “Like an .ex file?  Somehow physically merged with me?  That’s incredible!  Do you remember anything about when it was looking at me before?  It’s mostly just a blur for me, so be specif—“

“Jade!” says Dave sharply.  “Is that really important right now?”

Jade straightens, folding her arms.  “It might be!  If I can extrapolate something about the demon from its encounter with me, we could have a better idea of what its next move might be!  Will if head back to the city, where I assume most of its summoners stayed, or seek out the trolls following us right now?  I’m not much of a programmer—and let’s face it, neither is John—but that doesn’t mean I can’t just use plain logic on this!”

“We might not have time,” says Rose, quiet but forceful.  “If there’s even the smallest chance that it’s going to threaten Kanaya, then we need to go back to Allernia right now.  If I could, I would send her a message telling her to run, but I don’t know how much help running would be at this point.”

“…You know,” says John after a pause, “that’s a really good point.  Running isn’t much help when the people chasing you are in mortal danger and also kind of your friends.”

“Not all of them,” Jade mutters, but her reluctance seems only half-hearted.

In the silence that follows, all eyes are drawn to the little flash of white and gray at John’s elbow.

“…John,” says Jade slowly, “I think you have a visitor.”

John glances down absently and then does a double-take, staring at the little sprite.  “A PM?  But the demon killed all of our sprites!  How can I be getting a message?”

“The same way you did before,” says Rose.  “We just have to wait for those PMs to arrive if we want to communicate with those sending them.  We can’t send them spontaneously anymore.  Or, at least...I can’t, anymore.  I don’t know if the rest of you had your trolls’ PM addresses.”

“Oh!  Okay, no I didn’t get that.  But I think…I think it’s Vriska.”  John glances up at Rose, who shrugs.

“It might be important,” she says, and sighs.  “…Though what’s important to her might not match with her ‘friends’’ priorities...”

“One day you’re going to have to explain what exactly this Vriska troll did to piss you off so badly,” says Dave, raising his eyebrows at Rose, who ignores him.

John opens the PM and reads it to himself.

_John,_

_Surprisingly, it’s 8een fun talking to you.  I wasn’t really expecting that from one of the crazy dum8 humans who interrupted our spell.  I mean, I did kind of want to kill you for a while there!  8ut just an idle thought, you know how it is._

_Anyway, this might be good8ye!  Terezi told me the four of you ran into the demon, and if it’s seen you guys then it’s seen your silly green-text friend with the new ears.  The guy who appointed himself our “LEADER” told us things could get dangerous if that happened, so someone has to stop it._

_I’m the strongest of our group so I think that someone is pro8a8ly supposed to 8e me.  Especially since I’m the only one who seems to have any interest in taking him on!  Everyone else is just so weak and indecisive and it’s hard._

_You were actually pretty cool, human John!  Terezi didn’t tell me if you’d died but I kind of hope you didn’t._

_-Vriska ;;;;)_

John, his heart hammering, stumbles his way through the dictation of a reply, praying to whatever gods will listen that she hasn’t already left on her “mission”.

_vriska,_

_I hope you haven’t gone yet because wow, that, uh, that sounds really dangerous!  you don’t have to leave just yet, do you?  you should come and talk to us first, i’m kind of human-worried about you!  though I guess trolls have worrying too, right?  anyway, rose did this weird thing and got all grim and dark for a while, but she’s fine now and she probably injured the demon enough to slow him down a little. and we are alive!!_

_so what i’m getting at here is, you have time so please please come visit us before you do something that ends badly!  or at least tell us where you are!_

“I can’t believe I just heard you say that,” says Rose disparagingly as the PM blurs away.  “Are you really so worried about her that you’d offer to meet up with her somewhere?”

“Yes!” says John defiantly.  “Maybe she’s done some really bad things in the past, but she’s doing something that’s really brave now to protect her friends!  I mean, maybe it’s also kind of stupid, but so was the dark-god-possession thing you did last night!”

Rose draws herself up, her lips pursed, her eyebrows coming together, but before she can speak the PM reappears at John’s side, carrying a new message.  John looks at it, then back at Rose, who lets out the breath she’d drawn in for a vehement reply.

“…Just when I think you can’t make your eyes bigger.  Go on, read it,” she says, and sits back as John hurriedly opens and skims the new letter.

“She says we can meet her at the ruins a couple miles from the South side of Allernia,” he says.  “If we hurry and we’re lucky, we might get there before the demon.  I’m going, so I guess you should…figure out whether you’re coming or not.”

He trails off, looking somewhat uncertain and forlorn, and there’s a long pause during which his friends look at each other.  A series of facial expressions carries a quick discussion.  Then, after glancing from Dave to Jade, Rose sighs through her nose and turns back to John.

“…Of course I’d never let you go there on your own.  But we won’t be staying to help her fight, alright?  We’ll just…do what we can, then leave for the city.  We can do the _smart_ thing and see if we can figure something out with the rest of the trolls.  Do we have a deal?”

“Why does everything always have to have terms and conditions with you?” says John, grimacing.  Rose raises her eyebrows at him and, finally, he shrugs.  “Fine!  Fine.  Maybe we can convince them to help her fight.”

“We’ll see,” says Rose, and then coughs again as her lungs try to eject more black phlegm.  “…We should— _rrhrm—_ we should set out soon if you three want me to get there in one piece.”

\--

_< navigation error>/h_

_/del <insert://objective:/seek(pathway(ALL))>/del_

All the black demon “knows” (insofar as it knows anything) is its instinct to destroy whoever summoned it.

The only difficulty will be reaching them.  The demon is confused (insofar as it has the capability for emotions).  Even though its deletion abilities seem be at full capacity, the world isn’t moving around it as fast as it’s accustomed to.

_/proximity1://phos:nous:(…):pneuma(ERROR)/_

The other issue with this is that its sense of where those summoning factors are has become scrambled.  Where it would normally be a streak of black, drawing a straight line across the scenery in the direction of its quarry, it wanders in jerky, uncoordinated leaps, zigzagging as the “scents” registering in its consciousness shift unpleasantly.

_/mtch <reroute(pathway(ALL))://seek>/clsmtch_

But it’s adapting.

One way or another, it will find all of them.

\--

The journey back takes another two days, one of them spent once more on the deck of a boat, carried at a brisk pace down a new river that should, by Jade’s predictions, bring them out on the opposite side of Allernia than the one they left through.  

At least this time it’s a higher-class accommodation than a fish transport barge, but as Jade says, at least the barge deckhands were interesting.  High-class company has never suited even Dave and Rose, who grew up around it.  The only vaguely exciting moment occurs when a tipsy noblewoman tries to corner Dave for a kiss and ends up with one of her hands in an expert nervehold.  

By a combination of luck, Rose’s smooth-talking, and their willing acceptance of the captain’s command that they sleep in the workers’ hold rather than one of the first-class cabins, they manage to make it all the way to another riverside town, beyond which are visible grassy, yellowing plains.  From there, it’s only a matter of wending their way back through the woods, giving the city a wide berth, and finding the right place to meet Vriska Serket.

Fortunately the ruins are hard to miss.  From a distance, they are dark, blocky, inelegant shapes, quite unlike the graceful, sun-bleached columns of old civilizations the travelers have visited in the past, and they only grow less pleasant as they come into focus.

“Troll architecture,” Jade remarks as they pass the outermost edge of the abandoned town.  “Aesthetically pleasing buildings have never been their strongpoint!”

“You don’t say,” mutters Dave, staring around at the pitted, crumbling walls with one hand hovering near his strife deck.  “Thanks for the culture lesson.  I didn’t hear nearly enough of them on the barge here.”

“Any time!” says Jade, winking at him.  Dave has the decency to look slightly chagrined, but it’s not long before he’s looking elsewhere, tense and alert for any sign of attack.

Vriska doesn’t attack.  She does, however, step out of the shadows behind them with a flourish of her arms and a shout of, “Hey, human bitches, you finally made it!”

She subsequently has to duck a crossbow bolt and back against a wall with a sword, a hammer, and a pair of needles pointed at her face.

Later, when things have been explained and Vriska has, while failing to apologize, at least greeted them somewhat more cordially, John settles down cross-legged on the stone floor and looks her directly in the eyes.  Dave’s impressed by how long Vriska manages to meet that stare, which is John’s most earnest look of deep concern.

After Vriska tosses her head and paces vigorously away as though she didn’t care much for a staring contest anyway, John says, “So…what’s your plan?”

“Plan?”  Vriska scoffs, her mouth quirking in a grin that displays her pearly, semi-translucent fangs.  “Vriska Serket doesn’t need _plans_.”

“Oh, I’m sure she doesn’t,” murmurs Rose.  Vriska shoots her a look of pitying condescension.

“No,” she says, rolling her eyes.  “You don’t know me, so—“

“Oh, but I know Kanaya Maryam,” says Rose, in a sweet, smooth voice that makes Dave and Jade inch away from her.  “I know more about your…recklessness than she’d probably care for me to let you know.”

It’s hard to tell, but John thinks that Vriska pales slightly, the gray of her skin coming closer to white.  When she speaks, her bravado hasn’t faltered but there’s an edge to it—something like outrage mixed with resentment.

“She told _you_?  You’re a human!  And a thief, and not even a _good_ thief!”

“And I suppose you _are_?” asks Rose, raising her eyebrows.

“The best!” Vriska proclaims, spreading her arms wide.  “Unlike you, I can and did use my phosmagia to its limit!  I was the luckiest thief in town!  If I’d been in your shoes, do you think I’d ever have come back here again?  I guess it’s kind of flattering that you did, though, even if it was fucking stupid.”  

She looks at John as she says this, but her challenging gaze drops quickly away again in the face of his open blue stare.

“So…you’re a thief, and you’ve also done the bad stuff Rose said you did?”

“I didn’t tell them,” says Rose coolly as Vriska rounds on her, eyes wide.  “But I didn’t want them to come here.  We wouldn’t have come to see you at all if it weren’t for John.”

Vriska gives a harsh, throaty huff, glaring at John now.  “Well, it’s not like I’m _all_ ‘bad’, if that’s what you want to call it!  I’m here to fight the demon, right?  The rest of them are hardly going to get organized enough to help!  They’re probably arguing over it right now, whether they should stay or go or whatever bullshit!  It won’t help to send them a PM telling them I’m the _only one_ doing anything remotely productive or heroic out of the twelve of us!  I’m not doing it and you can’t make me!”

“Do you actually think you’re going to beat it?” asks John, earning himself another slightly confused look.

“…I don’t really get how you can say stuff like that and keep a straight face,” she says, “but I don’t actually appreciate your quaint, sincere concern, for the record.  I will be fine.”

“But you don’t have your powers!”

“I don’t _need_ my powers to kill him,” says Vriska, but there’s a note of uncertainty under her confidence.  John frowns.

“But you said you have…luck magia, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah, I _did_ , but it’s not like I’m completely helpless without it!  I have mind control, I can strife with a sword…and I’m fucking _good_ at it,” she says defiantly, glaring as though daring them to object.

“But you might die,” says John, plaintive and confused.  When Vriska looks at him, Rose sees the first semblance of tenderness in her eyes—pity, to be accurate.

“Come on, John, when did you start doubting me?”

“I’m not saying I doubt you, really, I’m just…  I don’t know, isn’t there anything we can do to help?”

“We’re not going to go get killed with her,” says Rose sharply.  “We’re going to go back and fetch the rest of the group who summoned these demons in the first place!  She won’t do any better with some of us on her side than she will on her own; bringing eleven accomplished mages to help her will give her—and us—a _much_ better chance.”

Vriska bridles at that.  “I told you, I don’t _need_ —“

“So to give ourselves and the other trolls more time,” Rose continues, raising her voice, “it’s in our best interests to bolster her strength as best we can.”

“Come again?” says Dave, looking away from the distant horizon for the first time.

“How do you awaken your talents in the first place?” asks Rose, rubbing her chin with fingers and thumb.  “Do you have the marks like the ones on our chests?”

Vriska frowns.  “Well, yes, but usually they’re smaller and they just need a little bleeding.  I don’t even want to know what you’d have to do to unlock magia from something _that_ big.”  She gestures to John, eyeing his bare chest with a combination of curiosity and embarrassment.

“Alright,” says Rose.  “Would letting only a little blood release a little of our magia?”

“Maybe,” says Vriska, narrowing her eyes.  “Why?  You want to give some of mine back?  I don’t see why you’d want to.”

“I suppose a good enough reason is that I know people who care whether you live or die,” Rose replies coldly.  “Whether or not I feel the same is immaterial.  When we landed in the middle of that circle, you’d practically emptied your magia in to it, hadn’t you?  So whichever we ‘took’, we got _all of it_.  But you’d only need a little bit of it back in you for it to be replenished, is that right?”

“...Maaaaaaaaybe.”

“Then I want you to make some marks that I can put my magia into, the way you and your friends did for your summoning.”

It takes some explaining and even more convincing to make Vriska go along with it, but eventually they end up sitting around a small circle of signs scratched in the dirt, one of Rose’s hands hovering above the marks.  She’s removed her blouse and undershirt, and as Dave and John look awkwardly to one side, she slides her breastband up to show the mark at the median line of her chest.

Vriska makes a brief, hacking noise, showing her pointed teeth in a sneer.  “Human females and your torso fat-flaps…”

“Deal with it,” says Rose, expert diplomat.  “Jade, if you would?”

Of the other humans, Jade and Dave were the only two willing to actually cut Rose intentionally.  And of those two, only Jade was willing to be up close and personal with a pair of bare breasts.

“How do you know this will release any of the magia at all?” asks Vriska, moving closer to the circle.

“It’s worth trying,” says Rose as Jade positions the tip of the knife just below the join of her clavicles.  “And it won’t hurt you, will it?  Now be ready.”

As Vriska crouches across the circle from Rose, Roxy slides into view nearby looking concerned.

_Uh, Rose…  Are you sure about this?_

_Everyone keeps asking me that,_ thinks Rose bitterly.

_But what if…what if it doesn’t end well?_

_I don’t think there’s any reason why it shouldn’t.  No need for baseless worrying._

“Rose?”

“One moment, please.”

_Aren’t you scared, though?_

_There’s a knife inches from my heart, Roxy!  I don’t_ want _to do this, you know that!  To be honest I have no idea why Kanaya cares what happens to Vriska, and yes, maybe I’m a little jealous…_

_…But?_

Rose sighs very faintly.  The steel is very cold against her skin.   _…But I couldn’t live with myself if I let her leave without doing everything I could.  I couldn’t face Kanaya._

 _Oh._ Roxy pauses for a moment, looking torn, and then her face hardens a little.  She squares her shoulders.   _Okay.  Okay!  I’ll be here for you, then.  As…moral support, I guess!_

Rose closes her eyes.   _I would like that._ “Jade.  Please do it now.”

As usual, the pain takes a few seconds to set in.  At first her senses just pick up the sounds of the wind moving between the buildings, the smell of earth, and the odd combined sensation of a cold line being traced down her breastbone and the splitting of skin.  

The burning that follows isn’t extreme, but in the feverish hyper-sensitivity lingering from possession of dark gods, it makes her skin prickle.  Rose’s body wants to rebel; her instincts insist she must escape the threat in any way she can.

Instead, she searches inside herself for any hint of the phosmagia.  She barely remembers what it felt like, that first night.  The sense of perception exceeding normal human limits, the certainty of what to do…where is it, how is she supposed to access it?  It isn’t working.  It isn’t _working_ \--

Roxy puts a hand on hers, and squeezes hard.

Ah.  There it is.

Rose looks into Vriska’s eyes and sees the light of familiarity there.

“Focus all of it on the circle,” says the troll urgently.  “ _All_ of it!  It’ll do whatever you push it to do, just give it to me!  Give it to—”

Rose pushes, imagining the feeling of sudden clarity as water, flowing from her mind towards her fingertips and into the circle, saturating the little scratches in the dirt with it.  She can feel it running out—she was right, this is only a limited amount.  And she, too, isn’t keen to find out how to release the rest.

And then it’s all gone, leaving not a sense of absence exactly but a sense of frustration.  There’s a block still in place, and the rest of the magia wants to be released.  Glancing at Roxy’s face, Rose can see that she feels it too—perhaps even more acutely, given that from what Rose has gathered, she _is_ the magia.  Her thin face is loose and bewildered, like someone who found something they’d been seeking for a long time and then lost it straight away.

Vriska’s expression is exactly the opposite.  She looks as though she’s inhaling the scent of her favorite food, eyes closed, an expression of relieved contentment on her face.  She exhales a sigh of satisfaction, a pale membrane closing slowly over her eyes from either corner.

“Ew,” says Dave.  Jade smacks the back of his head and leans eagerly forward, examining Vriska’s eyes.

“You have two pairs of eyelids?!  And you can blink them independently?  That’s incredible!”

Vriska’s look of bliss morphs into disbelief.  “Humans don’t?  How do you keep stuff out of your eyes?”

“Irrelevant,” says Rose smoothly.  “Now, should I take your reaction to mean that it worked?”

“Hell yeah,” says Vriska, rolling her shoulders.  Cords of muscle shift beneath her skin.  “And I’ll jack all his luck before we start, just to make sure.  That’s my specialty, by the way.”

“Can a program _have_ luck?” asks Rose, raising her eyebrows.

Vriska shrugs and grins.  “I’ll find out, won’t I?  Things tend to go well for me so I’m guessing…yes.  It’s worked for every single  fight before now!”

John frowns.  “If you use your magic for everything…doesn’t that kind of mean you don’t trust yourself to win?”

She scoffs but doesn’t meet his eyes.  “No!  It’s about having the best tactical advantage possible, dumbass.”

“Is that your Wiser Self talking?” asks Rose icily.  “Color me unsurprised.”

Vriska gives her a long, calculating look, eyes narrowed.  “…You sound like someone I know.  Always bugging and fussing and meddling!”

“And all for nothing,” Rose snaps, and stands up abruptly.  “Let’s go.”

John swallows hard.  “But—“

“Oh, stop complaaaaaaaaining, John!  You guys would only get in my way anyway, you know!  Look, I’ll do _one_ thing for you: I’ll PM whoever’s still in the city and tell them to meet you in University Square.  And _you_ can tell them that they can fuck right off too, I’ve got this handled.”

Dave, who still hasn’t spoken up, puts one hand on Jade’s shoulder and one on Johns and steers them away from the troll, pulling them after him.  John drags his feet, but allows himself to be led.

“You know, Rose,” says Dave as they pass out of earshot, “you’re more similar to her than you want to believe.  I’m surrounded by suicidally brave girls.”

“I appreciate that this is about as close as you’ve ever come to complimenting me,” says Rose tightly, “but don’t ever compare me to her again, please.”

\--

Around sunset, the demon appears; an indistinct figure on the horizon, moving closer with intermittent bursts of black.  Vriska stands up, stretches, and starts walking out to meet it.  It’s carrying a sword--that’s different.  But then again, she thinks, equipping her blue saber, it can hardly have had as much practice as she has.

As soon as its head snaps to face her, the demon breaks out of its straight, direct path and curves in her direction.  There’s something about it the way it moves that hints at total unstoppability and stirs a faint sense of unease in her gut.

The wind blows cool and damp over the open plain.  To one side of Vriska, Mindfang tries to shift, unbidden, into manifestation.  Vriska grits her teeth and pushes her Wiser Self back.

_No, I don’t need you!  Not yet._

She keeps moving, foot over foot, the tussocky grass uneven and coarse under her soles, waiting for the first move to be made.

She’s not surprised that the demon is the first one to attack.  But its speed…that’s something else.  Vriska catches the blow awkwardly on her blade and tries to disarm her opponent with a quick twist.  The demon barely moves, although even if it had Vriska suspects the sword is melded with its hand.  She ducks back and finds her retreat perfectly matched, the demon following her with a quick burst of movement.

_Still within striking range--!_

She parries to the side, spins away, and before she can blink another blow barely misses her thigh.  

_Concentrate, concentrate—_

A hot line of pain sears her chest, not deep enough to reach bone but enough to break her control over Mindfang.

_Take his luck!_

_Don’t—tell me—what—to_ do _!_ Vriska manages, but there’s no question that she’ll have to try using her magia soon.  For every desperate stab she has time for, there are three more blows to block.  She’s not used to bleeding and she’s certainly not used to losing.  She wasn’t lying when she told John she was a skilled fighter by troll standards, but this…

A flash of black, and the sword tip drives through the lower lid of her left eye and over her cheekbone.  Vriska gasps and retreats as quickly as she can, managing by some miracle not to trip over anything.  Her seven-pupiled eye is searing and when she finally skips  out of the demon’s quick bursts of speed, she reaches up to feel the bloody, cropped tip of her left ear.

 _Take his fortune for yourself,_ Mindfang snarls, desperate.   _I don’t understand why you are denying this now,_ now _of all times!  Initiate Spiritual Ascension!_

Vriska lowers her cerulean-stained fingers and glares at her enemy, who has started approaching again with that smooth, inexorable gait. _I’ll use my magia but there’s no way in hell I’m going to let you take over!_

Her eightfold vision is flickering and shifting, but she can still see the golden flow of luck from the demon to her.  But it’s somehow less than she expected—sparse picking.

 _Because programming has nothing to do with luck,_ Mindfang insists.   _If you would just say “Aranea”—_

_No!_

And then the demon jumps forward again and it’s another storm of blows, no movement wasted, no potential for distraction.  Vriska grits her teeth and forces herself to focus, her injured eye glaring through a film of blood and blue-tinted tears to catch every lightning-fast movement.

 _Do it now!_ shouts Mindfang.   _Say my NAME!_ Blue sparks cascade from the edge of Vriska’s damasked blade as it scrapes along the length of the black sword, barely grazing the demon’s facial carapace.  She dives forward with the momentum and rolls, popping up just in time to block five consecutive blows.

_No!_

_Why?  Why would you sacrifice the outcome of the most important battle of your life?_

An image flashes across Vriska’s mind: a pair of wide, staring blue eyes set in a soft, brown face.  The distraction costs her; the sword misses her bloodpusher by inches, impaling her left shoulder instead and severing whatever tendons allow her to raise it.  

Vriska transfers her saber to her other hand, deflecting the next strike but only barely.  She’s always considered herself ambidextrous, but it’s painfully apparent in practice that her right arm is a fraction slower than her left.

Gritting her teeth, trying to balance with the near-useless weight of her arm hanging beside her, she forces herself to keep moving.

 _Should you wait any longer, you will be too late,_ snarls Mindfang.   _Say my name!_

And now again, the eyes, watching her with concern, with _pity_ —

Vriska staggers backwards away from a merciless series of swipes, each only a hair’s breadth from her abdomen.  Mindfang’s voice is silent for a few breathless moments, and then...

 _I felt that,_ she says, and she sounds almost stunned.   _I recognize that emotion.  Vriska, whoever you are thinking of, forget about them!  It’s not important what some silly, pathetic palecrush thinks!  You can make them yours after we’ve_ won _here, I can_ help—

“No!”

But even as she yells it, Vriska knows she can’t go any longer without Spiritual Ascension.  She isn’t strong enough.  And if she doesn’t win here, who will?  Now, just as vivid as the disgustingly poignant thought of those blue human eyes, she sees a rainbow of blood—jade, teal, violet, fuck, _all_ of them—

Dodging backwards, she inhales deeply, feeling Mindfang’s energy shift into readiness near her.

“Aran--!”

And then she looks down at her chest.

At the black steel shaft protruding from it.

At the demon’s face as it jerks the sword dispassionately from her flesh.

The ground tilts to meet her back with a heavy thud, leaving her dazed and coughing.  When she raises one tingling hand to her chest, it comes away blue and sticky.

“ _Aah_ ,” says Vriska, feeling her air sacs start desperately trying to inflate.  Her torso heaves uselessly, coughs making hot wetness jump in her throat.  The bloody hand moves up to her throat with painful slowness, grasping, searching for something that isn’t there.

Mindfang’s face slides into view.   _Vriska!  You profligate fool, you should have listened!  Why did you not listen?!_

Vriska opens her mouth to answer and feels blood rising past her tongue.  She shuts her eyes again, tightly.

_It wouldn’t have made a difference…and I didn’t want…to let you do whatever you wanted, not this time…it hurts it hurtsithhurtsithurtsithurts—_

_Thrice-damned stubborn girl!_

Vriska almost manages a laugh, but it bubbles to a halt and she tilts her head back, trying to pretend her eyes aren’t prickling.  She drags in a deep, slow breath.

 _I never got to tell her,_ she thinks, because that’s the one regret out of the scores piling up in her hindbrain that she can put words around.   _I fucked it up when we were wigglers, just like with everyone else, and nothing was really the same but I could have…said something…_

She breathes out.

\--

The demon waits almost companionably next to his victim’s corpse, eyes on a nearby cluster of trees.  When the nousmage whose presence it sensed from afar comes sprinting from the cover of the foliage, it readies its sword once more.  If it notices the expression on the troll’s face when they come close enough to recognize the phosmage’s body in the grass, it makes no sign to indicate this.

Nor does it show any sign of remorse when teal blood begins to soak the ground at its feet, mixing with spilled cerulean.

\--

Under a sky stained violet by the sunset, the four travelers make their way through the West gate of Allernia.  The troll guards give them the same suspicious look they give all human visitors, but it seems they still haven’t been alerted to the presence of dangerous human magia thieves in the area.  They aren’t even stopped for a search.

Rose reels off the address again to Dave, who’s holding one of Jade’s maps and searching feverishly for a good route to their destination.  The streets are thankfully emptier around this time of day than they were the last time the four of them were here but it’s still slow going.

The city isn’t configured as a grid.  Rather, it seems to have been built a hive at a time, each construction randomly placed to until the outlines of roads began to fill in.  And the map, which is old anyway, doesn’t take into account gaps that have been filled or areas that are off-limits to humans.

They’re just coming to a halt at the mouth of yet another dead-end path when a PM alights on John’s shoulder.

“Vriska!” he says immediately, brightening.  “If she’s sending a message now, doesn’t that mean she’s probably beat the demon?”

“Read it and tell us,” says Jade distractedly, peering over Dave’s shoulder at the map.  “…I think we can cut around the next left turn, look.  Here, come on!”

As they set off again, John forces his eyes to focus on the message bouncing before his eyes.

_Hey John,_

_I set up a simple .~ath file on my PM.  That’s a technolurgical thing we trolls have that performs an action when the coder’s life ends.  Not that I’m expecting to die or anything, 8ut I was like, “just in c8se,” you know?_

_So if you’re getting this, I guess I’m pro8a8ly dead.  8etter hurry and tell the others, because the demon will 8e coming after them.  I already said the other stuff I wanted to say 8efore, 8ut since this really would be my last message…sorry, I guess._

John stares down at the message, a faint wrinkle between his eyebrows.

“What is it?” asks Dave, and then grabs John’s shirt, hauling him around to face a side street.  “Sorry, this way, this way!”

“Give me that map!” says Jade, apparently fed up with all the extra turnabouts and frantic pauses to double-check the route.

John walks after them, still looking down at the message.  “Guys,” he says, in a tone of distant concern, “I think Vriska’s dead.”

Jade gasps.  Rose’s face hardens.  Dave grips John’s shoulder hard for just a moment and then says, “Where next, Jade?”

Jade swallows and points down the road.  “This way, and then left again.  I’m sorry, John, I know you liked her, but we have to keep moving.”

“I know,” says John, closing the PM.  He grimaces for a moment, but then his expression is smooth and open again, his eyes focused.  “This is what she told us to do.  Let’s go!”

As they continue running, circling around five-cornered blocks and squeezing through the tightest alleys any of them have ever seen, night begins to truly set in.  Troll lamplighters can be seen on street sides, initiating the little spell cards in the bulbs for the night’s illumination.

“The further you get from troll-human integrated areas…the less streetlamps you see,” Jade pants, glancing down at the map.

“Yeah, and...I really...wanted to know that!” Dave manages, gripping a stitch in his side.  “Are we almost there?”

“Yes, actually!  Gods, I just thought it was interesting, no need to be such a baby!”

As they come around the last hivecluster into a wide open space, Rose puts a hand on Dave and Jade’s shoulders, gently pushing between them.

“Here,” she says pointedly, “Vriska said she’d send them all to meet us by the school gates.  Look, there’s already someone there.”

There is, indeed, a troll standing by the gates.  They’re short, wide-hipped, and distinctly belligerent-looking.

“Oh, _no_ ,” says Jade slowly.  “Oh, no, why couldn’t it have been Kanaya?  She’s _nice_!”

John frowns at her.  “What—“

“Hey!”  The troll is staring at them, gray eyes wide and hateful as a mad eagle’s.  “Yeah, you, I’m talking to you!  I don’t know why you’re here but I’m gonna fucking kill you!”

“It’s the gray-text guy,” Jade groans.  “I knew it!  Can we just…walk away until someone else gets here to explain?”

“He just equipped a damn _sickle_ ,” says Dave.  “I’m not sure we can just ‘walk away’.  We’d probably have to start running again.”

“You _rot-riddled fuckpanned puke-spouting—“_

“Hey,” says Dave, “calm down there, _bhuro_ , we’re here, aren’t we?”

“You!  Ruined!   _Everything!!_ And whatever you called me, never fucking call me that again!”

“Wow, fucking rude” says Dave, equipping his sword and holding it out idly in a display of superior range.  The troll stops just short of the blade, the sickle still trembling in one of his hands.

“I swear to all the pestilent gods who decided my unremittingly awful destiny, if that message Vriska sent meant we were supposed to meet _you_ shitheads here and she _didn’t tell me_ —“

“That’s irrelevant,” says Rose, stepping forward with her hands at her sides, held palms forward.  “You’re all in grave danger and I didn’t know whether all of you would come if you knew you would be meeting with the humans who took your magia.  There was no time for the negotiations that would be involved.  Maybe you could tell us what your name is?”

The troll looks about to spit bile.  His hair is bristling, his teeth gnashing wordlessly.  Whether this is just a troll threat display or he’s simply lost himself to unspeakable fury is anyone’s guess, but when he does speak again his response is predictably unhelpful.

“ _Negotiations?!_ I’m Karkat fucking Vantas and I never wanted to negotiate, you dim motherfucker, what on fucking earth gave you that idea?”

And suddenly it’s John on the offensive, striding past the reach of Dave’s sword and practically bumping up against the edge of the troll’s sickle.

“Hey, we ran all the way here to help you guys out!  You can’t go crazy on us just because of something we did by accident—“

“And then _ran away_ —“

“Because _you_ told us you were going to _kill_ us, what kind of—“

“Oh, boo- _hoo_ , grow some globes and take responsibility for—“

“ _Please!_ ” shouts John, his voice raw with desperation, “you have to believe us, Vriska’s dead and—“

“Like hell I will!” Karkat snarls.  “Trust a shitty gang of thieves and liars?!  I’d sooner—”

A black blade sprouts from his chest.  As it vanishes, Karkat looks up, a slightly confused expression on his face, and half-turns before dropping limply to the ground.  The demon flicks its sword and sends a neat spray of bright red blood across the pavement, and starts moving with that oily smoothness towards the humans.

“No!” Jade shouts, a flicker of movement in the corner of John’s eye telling him she’s equipped her crossbow.  The black demon flows towards them in little quick movements, liquid black silk with staring white eyes.  Jade steps in front of Dave, Rose, and John, her finger on the trigger, every line of her body tense with fury.

Then, as it comes within five feet of them, it turns at the sound of a new voice.

“What’s goin’ on here?”

The voice is deceptively small for such a tall troll, slouching out of the shadows with two other newcomers behind him.  He spares the humans only a moment’s glance before his eyes, surrounded by thick gray and white face paint, drop slowly to Karkat’s body.

“Hey…”

“Oh my gods,” says another newly arrived troll, staring in horror at the puddle of red blood now spreading from Karkat’s lifeless torso.  “Oh gods, is that Kar?  What—”

Jade opens her mouth to shout a warning, but as her eyes leave the demon it sidesteps away and runs the troll with the painted face through.  The two behind him react with commendable swiftness, the one who spoke drawing a battered blue god-weapon from his strife deck, the other flaring with red and blue lights.  The combined blast from the glowing muzzle and a pair of bicolored eyes strike the demon directly in the chest, but even that amount of force is only enough to drive it back a few steps.

“Eridan!  Sollux!  Is that the demon?”

As all eyes turn to yet another troll, dressed in black and fuschia, Jade sends a crossbow bolt flying at the demon’s head.  It slides to one side, letting the bolt fly straight towards the psionic.

“I guess KK was right about you,” snarls the psionic, stopping the shaft only an inch from his head.  “We’ll take you down too, after we’re done with—oh no you don’t!”

John, who was running at the demon with his hammer raised for a blow to its head, flies backward as another eyeblast hits him full in the chest.  Rose catches him, stumbling and falling as his weight crashes into her.  Dave yells something profane, and Jade runs towards the demon, trying to shout over the growing clamor that she has a plan, she can control it.

But the fuschia troll is there already, aiming a wicked golden trident like a javelin and—the demon jumps backwards, the air blurring around it, and with a sharp spin slices through her belly.  The trident clangs on the ground as she drops,

“Fuckin’—“ says the one with the rifle, his face a grimace of anguished shock, and then, as his eyes follow some new movement over the demon’s shoulder, he too falls, bleeding purple.  John, mid-leap above the demon, instants from smashing his hammer into its head, falls onto the sword now raised at a precise angle.  He hangs there for a moment, like a grotesque display of a hunter’s catch, a patch of red blossoming around the blade in his chest, and then the demon tosses him carelessly aside.

Rose screams.  As Dave runs forward, the hacking, guttural syllables of one of her dark prayers rise into the night, but before she can even finish the first phrase Jade jumps between Dave and the black sword—iridescent now with multicolored blood.  Then, as the demon pauses, a fresh blast of red and blue collides with it from behind and forces it forward.  Whether by some reflex or because its arm is somehow fixed in place, the demon’s sword impales Dave through Jade.

“Rose?!”

Rose turns with what feels like awful slowness as a slender, short-haired troll comes running into the blood-spattered square, skirts swishing around her ankles.  The psionic turns too, raising a hand in warning, and then looks back—too late.  His psionic blast cuts through the university campus walls, spraying mortar and stone across the square as his body falls.  Rose, her eyes focused solely on the demon’s next victim, hardly notices the shower of rubble.

Kanaya is reaching for her strife deck, but not fast enough—there’s a flash of white as she draws some kind of motorized saw out of the air and starts swinging it, and then—

and then she’s on the ground, bleeding out like the rest of them.  Like John, like Dave and Jade.

Like everyone else Rose brought here in the hope of finding some mutual goal, of helping.

As the demon turns on her, she half-raises her needles to point at it and then, abruptly, lets them drop.  The prayer rising inside her dies on her lips.

“What are you waiting for?” she asks, looking straight at her friends’ murderer.  “No need to slow down now.”

Then she gasps at the feeling of cold steel sheathed in her chest.

\--

“No one’s answering my PMs!” calls Nepeta over her shoulder.  “I think--I think something went wrong!  Equius, come on, we’re almost there, I can see the walls!  You’ve got to keep up!”

 _“Excuse--hhhh-me--hhhh--but I--I must--hhhh--rest_ ,”  Equius wheezes, hands on his knees.   _“You know I...ugh...I mean to say, long-distance running is not my--my forte…”_

There’s a long moment of silence, during which Equius stays bowed, his gasps slowly deepening into a healthy exchange of inhale and exhale.  With a final sigh, he wipes his hands on his thighs and straightens again, peering through the darkness in search of his moirail.

“Nepeta?  Why haven’t you said--”

In the instant that he sees her body on the ground, a patch of shadow to his left shifts.  Moments later, Equius stops breathing entirely.

\--

Tavros nudges Aradia once, halfheartedly, when he glimpses the shadow through barely open eyes.

“…Hey…we should…maybe get in the slime.  Nightmares.”

“Mmm,” she says, curling up closer to his chest.  Still barely opening his eyes, Tavros groans and tucks his arms under her back and legs.

“Up we— _agh!_ ”  He drops back to the floor, tears welling in his eyes as his legs throb.  “I…damn, I—forgot—no magia…ow.”

Aradia sits up, looking groggily concerned, and then her head snaps to one side, one hand shooting up between her and the intruder.  The sword passes cleanly through her palm and into her heart, then withdraws.

“Forgot,” murmurs Aradia as the blade thuds into the wall behind Tavros, “no magia…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really remember why I decided EVERYONE had to die. They didn't, really, but I guess it's more convenient in some ways. I guess this IS kind of a cliffhanger but I doubt anyone has any illusions about how long this state of affairs can last, so...eh? Still, I figured it was best to tag for Major Character Death, just in case.  
> EDIT: somehow failed to include Aradia and Tavros's deaths in the first copy/paste of this chapter! There they are.


	5. In Which a Second Attempt is Made, Names are Spoken, and Old Issues are Dealt With

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's about to go down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter! I'm pleased to finally be done and I hope it feels like a satisfactory culmination of everything we've gone through so far. Thanks to everyone who's been keeping up with this story and giving me their feedback, it means a lot. :>

_Out of the infinity of coruscating multi-colored fire, out of the vast, painless wonderment, out, out, out and up, and—_

\--and slamming into reality like a stone wall.

John Egbert opens his eyes and blinks, groaning as they tear up, trying to wash grit and dust out of his vision.  His first impression of his surroundings is overwhelmingly…gray.  The sun may be rising somewhere, but it hasn’t come high enough to touch anything but the sullen, sleepy sky.

The light is gray.  The shadows are gray.  The chunks of rock and mortar and the limp, lifeless arm crossing one of his ankles…are gray.

John jerks his foot away, forcing himself upright and staring around at the dusty, corpse-strewn square.  The sight of puddled blood in rainbow shades make his heart jump in fear.

“Dave!  Jade!  Rose!”  he coughs, one hand going automatically to his chest.  He looks down and gasps—the blue windy tattoo is gone.  And so is the wound that should have killed him, leaving only a patch of pale, warped skin.

Rose is kneeling near the body of one of the trolls, her hands picking idly at skirts stained with green blood.  John pauses in his approach; he suddenly has the feeling that he doesn’t want to see Rose’s face.  But he crawls over to her anyway, eyes still watering, and reaches for a shoulder with one hand.

She turns before he can make contact, and John freezes then withdraws.  Her nose and eyes are red and swollen and her face is streaked but she doesn’t seem to be crying.  She doesn’t seem to be doing much of anything, in fact.  Rose, like him, is miraculously alive, but her eyes are dead.

“Our magia was awakened when he stabbed us,” she says, the words falling like dropped stones in the still air.  “We should all be able to use those powers now.”

“So does that mean…does that mean you have those strong feelings about what to do?” John asks, hand still floating gingerly near her shoulder.  “Isn’t there an way we can fix—“

“No,” says Rose, and her usual snark has been replaced by a listless grief that makes his guts twist.  “I have the magia, as you do, but Kanaya told me it would show me the way to victory.  Well, it’s not telling me anything, which means that, unsurprisingly…we’ve lost.”

John seems to remember, from all the chaos and the blood, one of the trolls dispatching an emergency PM.  He’s not, therefore, completely surprised when the troll police turn up.  None of the survivors try to explain what happened, or even resist arrest.  John, Jade, and Dave might have, but each of them seems to realized that Rose has no intention of trying to escape.

So they stay with Rose, and wait in the same little jailblock, and wait for the “legislacerator” scheduled to interrogate them.  Rose sits in one corner, limp and slow-breathing but awake, staring at one wall with unseeing eyes.  Dave taps his foot.  Jade’s eyes are fixed on something invisible in front of her, blinking and making faces in that way that suggests she’s having one of her silent conversations with Jake.

John, who was given a coarse blanket by a disgusted troll guard, slides the corners of it aside to continue inspecting the tiny scar over his breastbone.

“…Maybe we should ask our Wiser Selves about what’s going on with our magia,” he suggests.  “I bet we could get out if we knew what we could do now.”

“Maybe!” says Jade, although her usual brightness seems somewhat dampened.  She glances at Rose and then back at John, biting her lip.  “But remember what…I mean, remember not to say their names!  Now we have magia, it would probably do that thing where they merge with us, you know?”

“Oh, right!” says John, grimacing.  “…That’ll be hard for me.”

“Just try it,” says Jade coaxingly.  “It can’t hurt!”

John and Jade sit back, relaxing as they call their Wiser Selves.  Dave sits forward, staring intently at his interlaced fingers, and almost immediately feels the neat click inside that means Dirk is there.

 _Hey,_ he thinks, eyes sliding up to halfway-meet his Wiser Self’s.

 _Hey,_ says Dirk.   _I don’t know what you did but I feel like a million fucking gold pieces._

 _I got stabbed through the chest,_ Dave replies, straightening a little, annoyance making a muscle or two jump in his face.   _And so did everyone else, including that troll Rose was basically in love with._

 _Oh,_ says Dirk.  His face could be marble for all the reaction it shows, but his shoulders might drop a fraction of an inch.

Dave shrugs hurriedly, stretching his lips in an effort to show…sympathy, or something.  Whatever’s appropriate here.   _Anyway, look, here’s the important thing…do you know what kind of magia we have now?  Earlier you said you had no idea, even from the tattoo.  Can you feel it now?_

 _Chronomagia,_ says Dirk immediately.   _That’s time._

_Holy fucking gods._

“Time,” says Dave.

Jade looks around, her brow furrowing. “What?”

Dave stares at her, eyes wide behind his glasses.  “I have time powers.  I think…I think I can time travel.  Holy  _fuck_ , what dumbass deity decided trolls were the best species for magic shit like this?  And more importantly, why haven’t they destroyed the world with it yet?”

“Never mind that!” Jade shrieks, springing to her feet.  “You can travel in time?  We could go back, fix this!  Dave, this is really important, this could change anything!  Can you feel how to use it?”

“One second, Harley, gods!  If this could really work, then there’s no rush, alright?”

Rose turns her head slowly to look at both of them, her lips tight, her eyes wide.  She says, hoarsely, “I for one...would like to know as soon as possible.”

“Well, why don’t you use your fortune-telling abilities to find out when I get the answer, then?” Dave snaps.  “Look, just give me a minute to try and figure this out with Dirk, he seems to know what’s going on.”

 _As much as I hate to say it, that’s an overstatement,_ Dirk tells him, putting one awkward hand on his shoulder with a faint, hot pressure.   _...Here, contact seemed to help Rose and Roxy.  Can you feel it?  There’s a rhythm.  I think the key is...changing it, but I sure as fuck don’t know how you’re supposed to do it._

“Can’t you just...think about it?” asks Jade, trying and failing to keep her excitement at bay.  Dave frowns at her, but after a moment he drops his gaze and shrugs.

“...I don’t know.  Maybe.  I can try.”

“Then  _do so_ ,” says Rose, and it’s a testament to Dave’s understanding of her feelings that he doesn’t snap at her for using such a harsh, commanding tone of voice.  He just tightens his lips for a moment, and then sits back with his hands over his ears, eyes closed under his smoked lenses.  The other three wait on tenterhooks in the cold silence of the cell, their eyes only leaving Dave’s face to search the cell for any signs of time travel.

It’s not long, however before it becomes apparent that nothing will come of this attempt, and shortly after Rose slumps heavily back against the wall Dave looks up again.   “I can’t do it,” he says, slipping fingers under his glasses to massage his eyes.  “I can’t keep time in my head.”

“Clap, or, or tap your toes or something,” says John.  “Come on, you have to!”

Dave shakes his head firmly.  “Wouldn’t work.  It needs something else and I don’t know what it is. D…my Wiser Self…says he’s ‘thinking about it’ but that just means he doesn’t know either.”

 _Hey_ , says Dirk.  Dave gives him a sharp look and his Wiser Self grimaces.   _...Fair enough._

“What if you sang a song?” asks Jade.  “I always find it’s a lot easier to keep time when you have something to base it on!”

John makes a face.  “But he’s  _terrible_  at singing.”

“Oh,  _thanks_ , just crush every helpful suggestion  _and_ my self-esteem while you’re at it,” says Dave testily.  “Nothing wrong with rampaging through my feelings like a walrus of fucking insensitivity in the jungle of emotionally fragile--”

“Walruses don’t belong in jungles, Dave,” says Jade, frowning.

“Exactly!”

“Just  _try_ it!” snaps Rose, and though everyone turns to look at her in the silence following her outburst, no one says anything in reply.  No one mentions that she’s sitting with her face turned away from all of them.  No one speaks a word about shaking shoulders or the way her voice cracked on the word  _try_.

But Jade, Dave, and John share a series of quick, intense looks and Dave squares his shoulders as Dirk’s shoulders rest on them--uncertainly at first, and then more firmly.

 _We know what to do,_ he says, and Dave grimaces.

_...Sure, but what should it be about?  I never memorized any of the old poems._

_Freestyle.  Make it up.  It’ll come to you, and I’ll help._

Dave takes a deep breath.  Closes his eyes.  Lines up the first few rhymes in his head.  And then he nods a couple times and starts, eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond John and Jade.

“ _Khugai Strider/wild horse rider/foreign sun shines brighter/when you’re an outsider/in your own country, don’t know if you tried or/if you regret even standing beside her.”_

His voice is quiet but he hits every syllable of emphasis with a kind of fervent force, almost like a prayer.  John starts trying to clap along with the beat before Jade puts a hand on his arm with a slightly pitying look.  John, it has been regrettably established in previous rap sessions, has next to no sense of rhythm.

_“I’m gonna leave, fuck it, not coming back/No war on our borders but you’re on the attack/slash and fucking hack, felt like the right track/CRACK like a hammer first thought of my own/don’t mind cause for once I’m not fuckin’ alone.”_

At first Jade thinks nothing’s happening, but then Dave’s voice rises and around them, the world starts to liquefy.  The stones beneath their feet seem to be shuddering until Jade realizes that  _they’re_ the ones shaking.  Spikes of red energy jump in the globe of calm space surrounding them, in time with Dave’s voice.  Beyond that barrier, very very strange things are happening.

Jade tries to peer into the strobing, sliding landscape and stops when she starts feeling ill.  There’s a very peculiar sensation, looking out at it, that one is seeing two worlds; the one you’re supposed to be in, and then…another, seen through it or perhaps sliding under it like the shapes of furniture under cloth.  She wasn’t really expecting time travel to look like this.

 _Jade,_ says Jake’s voice, faint through the keening of the moving worlds and Dave’s pulsing voice.   _I think he’s doing something…unconventional!_

 _Really?_ Thinks Jade, staring at Dave’s hands, which are pounding brutally into bench he’s sitting on.   _…I would never have guessed._

 _“Bhuro sayo man khuki dhani/all those damn feelings now shut up and leave/don’t fucking believe/you’d say that to me/man khuressa khugai what do you see/the world looks at you and falls to its knees/family’s nothing when blood is free._ ”

By the time he’s finished, he’s red-faced and his voice, while nowhere near to shouting level, is raised to a volume uncommon for him.  There’s a sense—to Jade, at least—that both of the worlds that have been shifting through each other are fighting to be the one that actually exists when it comes down to it.  It  _feels_ , in fact, like there are two of each of them—two Johns, two Jades, two Roses, two Daves—and one of the groups  _has_ to vanish with the world they inhabit.

Dave has finished his chanting but his fists are still banging forcefully against the wood, the knuckles torn and bloody.  The world pulses around them in time with it, faster and faster now as Dave squeezes his eyes shut and increases the tempo to a fever pitch.  The air throbs; the drumming is in their bones, their flesh, their blood.

And then, all of a sudden, something breaks and the room around them vanishes.  There’s a moment where the only sensation is that of falling through blank, bright crimson, and then there’s earth underneath them and open, damp air around them.

For several long moments, the only sound is that of Dave panting and swearing.  Then, slowly, as though afraid of what she’ll see, Rose pushes herself into a sitting position and looks around.  John follows suit, groaning and shaking his head like a wet dog.

They’re in the scrubby, thinly forested land between the troll city and the plains where Vriska planned to do battle.  The sky is a pale turquoise, the sun just dropping from its zenith.

“Uh, Dave...” says John, looking around with eyes round as coins.  “Are you going to explain what just happened?”

 _“Nnoooo,”_ slurs Dave, still spread-eagled on the ground.

“Can you ask Dirk?” asks Jade, getting to her feet and looking around.  “Are we back in the right time?  How did we do?  I think this is probably where we were yesterday around this time, but I don’t see any sign of, well,  _us_.”

 _“Wiser...Self...fuckin’...drunk,”_ Dave manages, turning his head to look at her.  When the only response he gets is a quizzical look, he circles one hand shakily and mumbles,  _“‘S--still there but...looks tipsy as fuck.  All weavin’ and fallin’ over and shit.”_

“I wanna see!” says John, grinning.  “That sounds hilarious!”

He crawls over to where Dave is lying, fixes a clumsy hand around Dave’s wrist, and stares in open-mouthed amusement at the sight of Dirk, who is currently stumbling and weaving through the grass nearby.  Shadow versions of him trail after him, tinted the same bright red as the gear on Dave’s chest.  As he staggers closer to John and Dave, John catches the sound of his voice, which is rather higher than it was the last time he heard it and seems to be muttering,  _“Hoo! Ha...haha--_ wow!”

As soon as John bursts out laughing, Jade crouches next to him and slaps her hand into Dave’s.  Immediately her face cracks into a wide grin and she drops her head, her shoulders shaking with breathless laughter.

“Guys,” Dave mumbles, seeming barely able to keep his eyes open, let alone move his lips, “guys, stop.  Laughing.   _Guys_.”

“He-- _just_ \--” John starts, but then loses himself again to convulsions of glee.

 _“He--just--fell over!”_ Jade finishes for him, squeaking the words between wheezes.

“That sounds rather like my mother,” says Rose’s voice from above them.  John peers up at her through watering eyes to see her looking down at the three of them, the faint twitch of an amused smile not quite disguising the anxiety compressing her features.  Still chuckling and gasping, John pushes himself upright and taps Jade’s shoulder.  Glancing up, she follows his lead.

“Please, can we start moving?” says Rose, shifting from one foot to another.  “I…appreciate that Dave has been through a lot in the past couple of minutes--”

Dave interrupts with a groan.  “ _Minutes_  don’t have relevance to what just happened,  _sisshi_.”

“I thought we agreed that you should never call me that.”

“ _Never_ doesn’t have relevance either,” Dave grunts, heaving himself up onto his elbows with what appears to be a supreme effort.  “I’ve just realized a whole assload about time that you would not be able to comprehend...ever.  An assload.  But a big fucking ass, mind you.  We’re talking a giant’s donkey here, all carting around knowledge of cosmic faculties like a motherfucker.  Hooves the size of--”

“ _Can we start moving?_ ” Rose repeats, the words scraping against each other like chipping flints.

Dave squints at her, his spectacles askew.  “I’m not sure I can stand right n-- _whoa hey_!”

“We’ve got you!” says John, grinning.  He and Jade each have one of Dave’s arms hooked over their shoulders, and as he protests and flails weakly, they manage to get his feet set properly down onto the ground.

“So,” says Jade, looking at Rose, “how were you thinking we would ‘start moving’?  There’s still the same amount of ground between us and the city as there was before!  Even if we can make things go differently this time, the demon is still going to turn up and the trolls still won’t be ready!”

“Dave could just--” John starts, but then looks down at the other boy, who’s still struggling to stand on knees that seem unsure of which way to bend, and frowns.  “...Actually, maybe he couldn’t.”

“Damn straight,” Dave mutters.

“Then perhaps one of us  _can_ ,” says Rose forcefully.  “Dirk was able to tell Dave what his magia controls--surely our Wiser Selves can do the same.  Just remember  _not to say their names_ , please.  I would rather not experiment with that particular function just yet.”

During the ensuing pause of furious nonverbal conversations (or, in John’s case, a one-sided verbal conversation) Dave tries ineffectually to lean on Dirk’s shoulder and ends up sprawled on the ground again, his cheek pressed against grit and dry grass.  He lies there, breathing slowly, unfocused eyes staring through yellowing stalks, until Jade squeaks in delight, causing him to roll over and peer up at her in groggy curiosity.

“...Harley?”

“ _Space,_ ”, says Jade, glancing from John to Rose.  “I think that could be really helpful but--what did you guys get?”

“Wind, I think,” says John, squinting at Jane.  “At least, we’re pretty sure.  But we won’t know until we try something.”

Rose shakes her head.  “No time for that now.  I think Jade’s right, space magia could be exactly what we need.  Remember what happened to her the night we acquired these powers in the first place?”

“No,” says John, frowning.  Near his feet, Dave rolls his eyes.

“She moved from one place to another in a second,  _damas_.  She can  _teleport_.”

Rose nods.  “And I...well, I don’t know what the trolls would call it, but I can see the best path to a favorable outcome--one step at time, at any rate.  That’s what Roxy says, and I think she’s right because something is telling me right now that what we need to do is go with Jade.”

“Okay, but...Jade, do you actually  _know_ how to teleport?” asks John anxiously.  “I mean, I know you did it by accident before, but do you actually  _know_?”

“Sure!” says Jade.  Her eyes, already alight with silver fire, flare brightly as she raises her arms, gripping John and Rose’s shoulders with either hand.  “Dave,” she says, “you need to stand closer to me!”

“Okay,” says Dave, looking rather dazed by the command--although that might just be more backlash from his time-travel attempt.  He sidles over until he’s standing directly in front of Jade, albeit at a slight angle so that they aren’t fully face to face.

“Tighter!” says Jade warningly.  “You two as well, get over here!  I’ve never done this before but it feels like we need to be in pretty tight proximity!  Good!”

 _Splendid!_ says Jake.   _Now, where are we heading, pray?_

“To the place where we were supposed to meet them last time!” Jade tells him, and begins trying to muster her focus for first-time teleportation.

Before she can even take a deep breath, however, Rose looks around and says, “No!” in her sharpest voice.

Jade frowns, confused.  “What?  Jake asked where we were going!”

Rose shakes her head firmly.  “Outside city limits would be best.  I can navigate from there, I promise.  But for now it’s best to stay outside the walls.”

Jade’s eyes widen in comprehension.  “Oh!  Is this your magia? Amazing!  So you can only see one step ahead at a time?”

“Yes and yes,” says Rose, her face softening in a smile for a moment.  “Though I do have an idea as to why trying to enter the city magically might be a poor idea.”

“Do tell!”

“Or don’t,” Dave suggests, peering at Rose around Jade.  “Come on, we have somewhere to be and I don’t want to stand here holding onto Jade for another hour!”

“Surely you could rectify that issue with your newfound powers?” asks Rose drily, with something resembling her old smirk.

Dave essays a hoarse fake laugh and leans back, eyes closing for a moment.  “Alright, come on, let’s go save your girlfriend.”

In the expectant pause that follows, Rose doesn’t even bother to deny it.  And then Jade’s whole body becomes a mass of green, slithering light, which then becomes a clear silhouette, a Jade-shaped doorway which expands, swallowing all of them whole until they’re completely immersed in the landscape beyond it.  And then there’s a snapping sensation, another flash of green light, and she reforms just as she was, all of their hands still hovering near her.  John, Dave, and Rose cry out in unison as a sharp spark leaps from Jade’s body to their hands.

“Well!” says Jade, looking up at the dark, looming wall of Allernia, “that was successful!  What now, Rose?”

Rose smiles in return and nods in the direction of the nearest gate.  Entering is no more difficult than the last time they visited the city (trolls feel little to no threat from the presence of humans), and once inside Rose leads the way with immaculate confidence.  They manage, remarkably, to avoid any attention from the polislaughterers, weaving through the crowds with relative ease and without the help of any map.  Rose takes alleys they didn’t even notice last time, pauses at seemingly random moments, and speeds up at others.  With astonishing ease and speed, they cross the city and soon find themselves standing in the square where they awoke surrounded by blood and broken stone.

“So we’re here,” says Dave, who looks even more pale and sweaty now.  “What now?  How do we get  _in_?”

“Leave that to me,” says John, glancing at Rose.  She tilts her head to one side, eyes fixed on some far-away point, and then nods, smiling faintly.

John nods back, and then inhales deeply.  Around him, the wind breathes with him, weaving itself into compact, rushing currents.  As he packs more and more moving air into the space around him, John hears somewhere beyond the edge of hearing his friends saying something.  It doesn’t seem to matter too much, right now.  He feels so much  _larger_ and  _lighter_ …

As his lungs reach their maximum capacity, John holds them there for one beautiful, balanced moment and then opens his eyes, focusing directly on the gates, and exhales with a great lunge forward.

A massive current of air explodes out of its tight, high-pressure bundle, coursing in a focused stream towards its target.

“...Holy  _fuck_ ,” says Dave weakly in the following pause, and Jade nods silently in agreement.  Rose, however, is already striding through the opened gates, heading not towards the main school building but in the direction of the abandoned hive where all of this started.

“Are all of them going to be there?” John calls, jogging after her.  “And if they are--is that good or bad?”

“I wouldn’t lead you into anything if it were going to end badly,” Rose replies, glancing over her shoulder.  “Keep up!  Jade, can you carry Dave or something?”

“No,” says Dave, even as Jade chirps, “Yes!”  Rose rolls her eyes and keeps walking.

And then, suddenly, she stops and frowns.  Moving back to stand on a level with the rest, she takes John by the shoulder and moves him gently to the front of the group, saying, “You should be the one to talk to him.”

“Talk to who?  What?”

 _“I don’t_ fucking  _believe this!!”_

“Oh,” says John, his face falling as he turns to face forward.  “Oh,  _no._ Not this again.”

“ _Do_ something,” says Jade urgently, staring in anxious distaste at the advancing troll.  “John, come on!  If you don’t stop him he’s going to attack us and we’re never going to get anywhere!”

“But--”

“You’re going to regret fucking with Karkat Vantas!” screams the troll, and John thrusts his hands forward as though to ward him off, looking suddenly fed up.

“Yeah fine, whatever, you’ve got to  _shut up already_!”

He feels the faint nudges from Jane at the back of his mind, pointing him in the right direction a step at a time, and  _twists_ something in his mind…

Seeing Karkat lifted up by a great spinning sphere of wind, thrashing and practically frothing at the mouth, is oddly satisfying.  But, as a nudge from Rose reminds him, he can’t stand around appreciating being able to shut the guy up all day.  Recalling the sense of urgency and the still very real memories of the corpse-strewn square, John yells up at his raging captive.  “Karkat!  Karkat, listen to me!  You have to believe me, we came from the future and everyone will be in serious danger if you guys don’t come with us and help Vriska!”

“Vriska?”

“She’s trying to fight the black demon on her own and she’s going to die if you guys don’t help!  We can give your powers back but you  _can’t_ try and imprison us or anything, okay?  We already tried that and it wasn’t good and if you do everyone’s going to die!”

“You made a doomed timeline?” says a voice.  As one, the humans turn to see another troll, dressed all in rust-red wool clothing, staring at them.  John remembers seeing her take a sword through the chest.

“Did we?” asks Dave.  And then, “Wait.  You’re the chronomage, aren’t you?  We figured out how to give your powers back, but we’ll be keeping what we’ve got.  The deal is that you get them back if you don’t kill us afterwards.”

“I don’t want my magia back!” says the troll, striding towards them.  She looks serious, but not angry.  “It’s never brought me anything but trouble!  Besides…I can still raise ghosts and move things with my mind.”

Dave grimaces.  “Oh gods, seriously?”

“Yes, but that’s not magia, just…troll stuff.”  She gives them a blinding smile.  “Now, could you please put Karkat down and explain about the timeline you came from?”

“There is no time to  _explain_ ,” says Rose in tones of ice.  “Unless you want Dave to keep creating stable loops just to tell you all about it now!”

“Which I can’t,” Dave adds.  He still looks pale and drawn.  “So let’s do this fast.  We have half an hour, three-quarters tops, and I can feel it…counting down…”

He drops to his knees just as John lowers Karkat gently to the floor on a cushion of air.  The troll looks windswept and slightly ill, but otherwise unharmed.

“Karkat,” says Aradia, “you know how we all reluctantly gave you PM permission to send group messages?”

“Yes,” says Karkat rather hoarsely.

“I think now is the time to use that power for good.”

“Good!” says Jade forcefully.  “And in the meantime—what’s your name?”

“Aradia.”

“Aradia, I need you to draw three magia circles on the floor.  It doesn’t have to be anything big or fancy like the one you were using when we…interrupted you, just something we can put our magia into!”

Aradia smiles, showing all her teeth.  “I can do that!”

Everyone that can be gathered from around the town has been, although Nepeta and Equius are still abroad.  Sollux gives an impromptu and very angry lecture on the twin demons, gets into a small fight with Dave when the human tells him to speed it up because they’re on the clock, and goes off to sulk in a corner while the others split off in their own groups.

Dave and Aradia are talking quickly in a corner while John and Tavros organize the return of Tavros’s pneumamagia and Kanaya, with Rose hovering inconspicuously over her, listening carefully to Jade’s explanation of the process.

“But there should be two of all of you,” says Aradia, staring.  “You say you landed back in the place you were at the time when you were there previously, but…  Time travel doesn’t work like this…everything that happens is already fixed, and if you come back to a world where it wasn’t, it means you’ve created a doomed timeline.  People who create doomed timelines  _die_!”

“We’re building up an immunity to that,” says Dave, and grins in a distinctly un-Dave-like way.  Aradia smacks his head.

“Take this seriously!  Your phosmage friend said we don’t have too much time— _I won’t make the joke if you won’t_ —so tell me.  Why aren’t there two of you?”

“I don’t  _know_ ,” Dave mutters, rubbing his head.  “—Gods, do all trolls hit that hard?”

“Most of us,” says Aradia.  “Now, there are some very unreliable records that say sometimes a Wiser Self left in a doomed timeline will somehow become temporally merged with its past self, but that doesn’t seem to be what happened here.”

Jade, who’s finished returning Kanaya’s magia and wandered over while they talked, says, “I thought near the end of Dave’s thing, it felt like there were two worlds overlaid on each other.  And then one of them…won, is what it felt like.  Our version of the world, where we went back in time.  Does that sound familiar?”

Aradia laughs, her slot-pupiled eyes narrowing above rounded cheeks.  It’s such an odd combination of human expression and troll features that both Dave and Jade look taken aback for a moment.  Then the slightly chirrupy giggles subside and Aradia says, “But then you’d have to…reverse the time flow the whole world hours into the past!  And that’s not something even an experienced troll mage could do in Spiritual Ascension!”

Dave stares blankly at her.  Jade thinks he looks somewhat affronted.  “Well,” he says,” I don’t know what Spiritual Asstension is but what you just described is what I was trying to do.  My brain ghost—oh, sorry,  _Wiser Self_ —looked pretty beat-up afterwards, though, and I felt like I’d…lost it again after that.  So I think it was a one-time thing.”

“Dear sweet gods,” breathes Aradia.  “This explains so much!  And creates so many more  _questions_ …I’ll ask them later.  But you should tell your friends that right now, if they haven’t already used up that initial surge of power, they’re probably capable of at least one unimaginable act of magia.  Tavros, are you done?”

Tavros glances up from where he’s kneeling across from John, then grins and, as though in answer, lifts himself lightly from the floor and sets himself down on legs supported by forceful, restrained currents of air.

“I’m back,” he says, and there’s a light in his eyes that makes Aradia’s chest warm.  Then he turns back to John with an entirely different look on his face and says, “Hey, uh, don’t think this means you’re, off the hook or anything, because you are still completely terrible.  That’s just a fact that I am, I think, laying on the table for all time.”

 _Oh dear,_ thinks Aradia.  The burning look in his eyes would have been all too obvious to a troll, but…humans don’t have pitch romance, do they?  Hm.

Dave relays Aradia’s message to Jade, who immediately turns to Kanaya to ask whether the transport of three other people could be considered an “unimaginable act of magia”.  Apparently it isn’t, although Kanaya says it’s not strictly necessary for passengers to hold onto the transporting mage.

While Jade is doing one of her little victory dances, Karkat comes out of the corner where he’s been talking very low and fast to Gamzee.  They both look distinctly grim.

Dave leans ever so slightly towards Kanaya.  “Is he going to make a speech?” he mutters, frowning.

“Probably,” Kanaya replies, “but he doesn’t look the way he usually does before making one.  Perhaps we should give him the benefit of a doubt?”

Dave grimaces, but keeps his peace as a rough circle forms around Karkat’s small form.

Karkat puts his hands in his pockets, shifts so that his legs are a stable shoulder-width apart, and says, “There is an evil black demon coming to kill us.  From what these…humans have said, it’s not coming  _fast_ , but we have no idea how long that’ll last and anyway fucking Vriska Serket is already taking the fight to it.

“We’re the ones it’s looking for, but I don’t know how many people it would take out to get to us, so we’re going out to meet it beyond the old ruins.  Bring nothing but your godsdamn best, you odious freaks of nature.  We’re just crazy enough to wipe the floor with this fucker.”

There’s a moment of silence which everyone expects to be a dramatic pause, and then Karkat says, “That’s  _all_ , stop staring at me and let’s go!”

It’s the first time anyone has ever applauded one of Karkat’s speeches, although it’s possible the crowd’s approval is less for the content of the speech and more for its brevity.  The crowd begins to move towards the door, slowly at first and then faster, their expressions varying

“We’re just missing Equius, Nepeta, and Terezi,” says Karkat as they pool out into the street.  “But even if we can contact them, there’s no way in hell they can get here in time so we’ll just have to make—“

“Oh!” says Jade, “I know where they are!  I mean, Terezi is already on her way there, but I think the other two will need a little more help.”

She says this as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.  Karkat stares.

“…Cosmages can’t just tell where people are,” he snaps eventually.  “That’s not a thing they can do.”

“It is for right now,” says Jade firmly.  “Now, where do we want to land?  Just near the ruins?  Got it.  Everyone pull in around me, please!  That’ll make it easier, I think.”  

“I thought everyone needed to be touching you,” John calls over the horned heads in front of him, and Jade flashes him a grin.

“I can do this!  Just like Dave could change time without ending up with two of all of us, I can feel it!  Alright, then, let’s go!”

And suddenly, there’s the plain.  Looking around, the teleportees can see the ruins standing behind them in a ragged black line, and ahead…  Two small figures, pacing around each other.

Dave murmurs, “They’re going to start any minute now, I can feel it.  It all goes wrong when she dies, we’ve got to move fast.”

“I demand to know what happened!” says a deep voice.  Feet away, on the outskirts of the rather dazed-looking circle of trolls and humans, Equius is getting to his feet with Nepeta’s help, glaring bewilderment at all of them.  “Why are we here?  How did you—“

“That was me,” says Jade, her voice weak, almost drowsy.  She looks drained, much as Dave did after bringing them back in time.

“And as for why we’re here,” says Karkat, gripping Equius’s elbow and hauling him around to look out across the flat ground, “short version: evil black demon is coming for us, Vriska’s trying to stop it like the foolhardy show-stealer she is, and we’re here to back her up.  We got our magia back and now we’re going to kick some fucking ass.  Sollux, better get started now.  The rest of you…I have one last thing to do so come here.”

He inhales deeply, eyes shut tight with concentration, and equips a small knife from his storage deck.  A rustle of interest runs around the assembled trolls as he cuts his thumb with barely a wince and bright, bright red blood beads against his gray skin.

Looking around at the faces watching him, Karkat lets his gaze come to rest on a pair of lazy purple eyes.  Gamzee gives him a tentative smile, which Karkat makes himself return.

He doesn’t deserve it.

\--

_As Tavros settles down across from the human named John, Karkat pulls Gamzee aside.  His heart is pounding, his stomach churning, and his apprehension isn’t lessened by his moirail’s expression of trusting concern._

_“You know how sometimes I...look ill or whatever, and I’ll go missing?  Or, I mean, sometimes I tell you I’ve had a nosebleed?”_

_A nod.  Karkat sets his jaw, half willing his moirail to understand, half thinking they should just break up and have done with it._

_But either way, Gamzee deserves to know._

_“You know how you and The Silencer had all that trouble early on, how...how things got all fucked up because you didn’t want to use your manimagia?”_

_Another brief nod, this time accompanied by a slightly pained expression.  Karkat wishes for a quick and painless death, and then hastily takes it back.  It might be too soon in coming._

_“...Well, I’ve been doing the same thing with my hemomagia.  For...for a really, really_ long fucking time _, okay?  And I didn’t want to tell you--I mean, fuck, I convinced myself I didn’t have to tell you.”_

_“That’s okay, brother, you didn’t--”_

_“NO!  It’s not okay, don’t fucking tell me it’s okay!  Moirails are supposed to tell each other everything and you don’t even know the color of my blood!  I mean, shit, everyone probably already knows by now, somehow, but I should’ve been the one to tell you.  And you shouldn’t be okay with what I’ve been doing.”_

_“...Okay.”_

_“Okay.  Well.”  Karkat takes a deep breath in through his nose, then releases a huff of hot air through his mouth.  “We’ll talk more later.  Listen, though, are you ready to go?  We’re going all out this time because otherwise we’re fucked.  Are you going to be okay?”_

_Gamzee pauses for a moment and Karkat waits semi-patiently for him to finish listening to whatever the Silencer has to say.  Their conversations can take a while, especially given the amount of work Gamzee’s Wiser Self has to put into modulating his voice.  This is one of the reasons why Karkat generally prefers not to converse with the Silencer himself--_ sometimes  _he’s silent, and sometimes…_

_Well, sometimes he could give the Sufferer a run for his money._

_“Shit yeah we’re gonna be okay,” says Gamzee, bringing Karkat abruptly back to himself.  Gamzee isn’t one for double meanings, but looking up at him now Karkat has the most peculiar sense that he’s not just talking about himself and the Silencer._

_Karkat swallows hard and manages a weak smile.  “Good,” he says.  “I think so too.”_

\--

Karkat takes a deep, deep breath, and then he raises his hand above him and says in a clear, rough voice, “Kankri!”

At first, there’s no difference, and then the air around him shifts and twists, smelling of spices and hot iron, whipping up the dust at his feet.  His eyes burn bright red in the dim twilight, and for a moment a tall, red figure is visible behind him.

Then he clasps hands with his Wiser Self and when the dust and red light have gone, it’s not quite Karkat standing before them.  His face is longer, more worn, and cast into shadow by the cowl of a tattered gray cloak that seems to have materialized out of the swirling air around him.

 _“Alright,”_ he says, and his voice has a slightly different resonance—still Karkat but deeper, a little more gravelly, less shouty.   _“I’ll lead you with hemomagia, but only if you agree.  I didn’t know…I never asked whether you would care what my color was.  A show of hands would--”_

It’s a unanimity.  

Karkat purses his lips for a moment, chin trembling, and then he seems to master himself and nods once.  He moves among them with a kind of gentle speed, sweeping a bloody thumb over a cheek here, a forehead there.   Even Equius, who starts sweating profusely as Karkat approaches him, allows the cloaked figure to leave a streak of bright red on his shoulder—though not without a harsh murmur of, “This is so…. _depraved_ …!”

And then, just as Karkat pulls away from the last of the humans, there’s a distant but sharp noise from the distance, like a finger being dragged around the edge of a wine glass.

 _“She’s starting,”_ he says, and then glances almost nervously around at his comrades.   _“Now is the time to—“_

“Come on, Karcrab,” says Feferi, already walking towards the small, clashing shapes in the distance.  “We’re way ahead of you.”

Her words seem to send a ripple through the other trolls— _Are we doing this?  Are we really doing this?  Alright, let’s do this_.  Eleven pairs of eyes flare in bright, unnatural colors and together they advance.

\--

 _Girl_ , says the Baroness,  _What in the shell have you gotten yourself into this time?_

Feferi grins as she starts to break into a run.   _Oh, you’ll like this!  We’re actually going to fight together for once._

_You mean--?_

_Yeah!  Time to pull all the stops out!_

She equips her 2x3dent, spins it in a blur of iridescent gold, and says aloud, “Meenah!”

There’s the feeling of a salty wave crashing into her, and as her hair slithers out of its braid she revels in the pride and ferocity that comes with being Meenah Peixes.

\--

Darkleer looks as nervous as Equius is, but both of them square their shoulders and Equius cinches the band on his ponytail.  They bow stiffly to each other, despite the fact that none of the other highbloods seem inclined to observe that particular formality.

Well, that’s never stopped him before.

“I call you forth,” he intones, equipping his bow and holding it before him.  “Horuss!”

And it feels like being latched into a suit of armor.

\--

 _I need you,_ thinks Kanaya, and in the peaceful rhythm of her body she can already feel the Dolorosa synchronizing with her.  They walk after the rest of the advancing line in lock step, slowly at first and then accelerating into a run that sends their skirts flying.

“Porrim!”

There’s the subtle sense of sunlit warmth sinking into her skin, and then they’re together.

\--

 _About time,_ the Psiioniic grumbles.   _If we’d never gotten to do this our whole life I would have been disappointed as fuck._

 _Spiritual Ascension has a 30% chance of fatal physical and mental stress, you know that?_ Sollux retorts.   _Don’t run me down and make me regret this._

The Psiioniic snorts and claps his back with a boney, half-tangible hand.   _I never would, brat.  Now let’s do it._

_Fine._

“Mituna!”

It’s like a massive, dizzying electric shock; as all his hair stands on end, Sollux remembers what it’s like to be whole instead of halved.

\--

Nepeta rolls her shoulders and dances from foot to foot, while beside her the Huntress stretches heavy-muscled arms above her head and bends from side to side.  They share a knowing, comfortable smile, and then the Huntress nods ever so slightly.

“Alright,” says Nepeta, and equips her claws with a flick of both arms.  “Meulin!”

For them, it feels like the moment at the end of the chase—the weightlessness of the leap followed by sharp, savage satisfaction as claws and teeth sink into the prey.

\--

 _Are you sure about this?_ Dualscar asks, turning steady violet eyes on Eridan.   _It’s gonna hurt._ Eridan scoffs under his breath, looking away.

_…So what if I end up with some scratches on my face.  ‘S my fault you got ‘em in the first place.  Now come on, everyone’s already movin’!_

Dualscar shoots him what might be just the faintest glimpse of a smile, and then coughs sternly and says,  _…Alright, then._

“Cronus!”

The feeling catches him up like a thunderstorm, surrounding him so completely that it rumbles deep in his chest.  Eridan runs a cursory hand over the fresh cuts transversing his right eye, rolls the folds of the new, heavy purple cape out of his way, and strides forward.

\--

 _So,_ thinks Gamzee, glancing up at the bony figure looming next to him,  _d’you…think we can do this?_

The Silencer looks down at him and opens his mouth, little noises coming from the back of his throat as he tries to modulate his volume.

Gamzee gives his Wiser Self a crooked smile.   _Just shout, brother,_ he tells the wild-haired apparition.   _I don’t mind._

_THEN MOTHERFUCK YES, BITCH BOY! WE ARE THE STRONGEST AND MOTHERFUCKING BEST AND OUR BODY AND SPIRIT CAN ALL AND BEAR IT!_

Gamzee’s grin widens, his face sharpening indefinably, and when he speaks again it’s a harsh bark to match his Wiser Self’s—“DAMN STRAIGHT, KURLOZ!”

It’s the feeling of laughter pressing at the back of your throat, but full-body, overwhelming, burning up every muscle.  They release the energy together in a scream.

\--

Aradia smiles a little sadly as she lets the heat of her psionics pool in her hands.  She would have liked to have a decent Wiser Self to join with now, when her friends need her most.  Despite her vow not to do “little things” with her chronomagia, just having the boost to her telekinesis would have been enough.

But she doesn’t want to hear the Handmaid pronouncing whether or not everyone here is going to die, and there are already nine powerful young mages in Spiritual Ascension heading in the demon’s direction.

The odds are fine without her, she thinks.

\--

Terezi takes a deep sniff.  The battlefield isn’t too far off, and if Vriska’s using her magia the way she usually does, there should be at least a hint of orange in the air.

The bouquet of smells that hits her olfactory nerves actually makes her stop in her tracks, red eyes wide with confusion.

 _What are they all_ doing _?  That’s…damn it!_  Terezi has to pinch her nose for a moment, breathing through her teeth until her overpowered nose adjusts.  Moving more cautiously now, she tries to sort through the scents growing heavier in the air.  That’s Karkat, instantly recognizable, and Eridan, and— _Gamzee?_

Terezi speeds up instantly, a tiny spur of fear kicking her into motion once again.  If even Gamzee has been pushed to join with his Wiser Self,  _something_ has to be going on.

And Terezi will not be unprepared upon arriving.  Redglare appears running beside her, red glasses flashing a delicious cherry red in the shadows of the forest.

 _What’s going on?_ Redglare asks, quick and curious.   _Now’s not really the time for conversation, is it?_

Terezi answers verbally, her mind too consumed by thoughts to form a psychic response.  “No…conversation!  Smells like…spiritual ascension…up ahead!”

 _What do you—_ oh.  Redglare, still keeping pace within view of Terezi’s nose, smells suddenly surprised.   _You’re right!  That’s_ everyone,  _isn’t it?  Damn!_

“Yes!  So…we should…follow…their lead!”

 _Alright,_ says Redglare without hesitation.   _Let’s bring them to justice together!_

“Who?” Terezi pants, dodging around a tree as the forest begins to thin.

_Anyone who needs it!  Go on, do it._

“Latula!”

And like an argument slotting perfectly into place, they come together as they were meant to.

\--

_Take his luck!_

_Don’t—tell me—what—to_ do _!_ Vriska manages, but there’s no question that she’ll have to try using her magia soon.  For every desperate stab she has time for, there are three more blows to block.  She’s not used to bleeding and she’s certainly not used to losing.  She wasn’t lying when she told John she was a skilled fighter by troll standards, but this…

Someone shouts,  _“Duck!”_ and for whatever reason Vriska’s natural rebelliousness falters.  She throws herself to the ground just as a white-violet laser rifle blast sings through the air above her.  Glowing sparks spray from the demon’s black hide as it’s driven back, growling.  It flashes and ducks away from the blast, but before it can return to Vriska a whirlwind of long, swinging limbs collides with it, black lacquered juggling clubs battering it.

Vriska has never seen Gamzee fight for real.  She’s heard stories about what happened with Equius and Nepeta, but their descriptions weren’t anything like…this.  He moves in a series of curves and loops, his spine dropping into an easy, drunken arch as the demon’s sword passes an inch from his face.  But she barely has time to marvel at this unusual display of competence before the demon ducks around Gamzee and surges again towards her.  This time its charge is blocked by a lance, jammed between the place where two of its frontal carapace plates meet.

“ _Tavros?”_ Vriska manages, staring, and then lifts one arm instinctively to cover her eyes as a great gust of wind roars around her, pressing the demon back.  Someone pulls her to her feet and she turns as she shakes them off, ready to issue a belligerent warning not to touch her again.  But here again she finds herself brought up short, this time by the sight of Karkat in Spiritual Ascension, red light pulsing under his skin, eyes blank and luminous.

 _“Here,”_ says Karkat, and swipes a thumb across her cheek.  Vriska grimaces at the blur of bright red in the corner of one eye, but in that moment the connection opens up between her and the others under Karkat’s hemomagia.  For a split second she struggles, the sensation of sharing herself with so many others grating at the very fiber of her soul, but it’s strong magia and she can’t help being interested in the plan being woven moment by moment across the span of Karkat’s connection.

 _“Damn,”_ she breathes, and then gasps as Feferi careens into her, sweeping her up with one powerful arm and depositing her over a shoulder.  Grunting with each broad stride the seadweller takes, Vriska manages to shout, “ _Ngh--_ hey!!  Put me down, I can still fight!”

 _“I’m shore you can,”_ says Feferi brightly, and Vriska freezes at the sound of Meenah’s voice in hers.  Is  _everyone_ in Spiritual Ascension?

A quick mental search of the blood connection answers her question, but before she can remark aloud on the improbability of the situation Feferi’s grip loosens and she falls bodily to the ground, biting back a yelp of pain.

 _“Now,”_ says Feferi, kneeling beside her and thrusting her trident forcefully into the earth,  _“let’s get you fixed up.”_

Vriska winces as icy life energy flickers over her wounds, but still spares a moment to look back at the fray.  The demon is practically hidden by dust whipped up by swirling wind and the bright flashes of spells and psionics.

“They’re going to kill themselves if they keep it up too much longer,” she snarls, grimacing.  “Why didn’t they just let me do it myself?  I could’ve--”

 _“No, you couldn’t,”_ says a voice, and Vriska’s head snaps instantly back around because it’s not Feferi speaking.

It’s Terezi.

“Y...you!”  Vriska swallows, still staring in shocked anger, and tries to rally even as Feferi deals with the cut across her eightfold eye.  “Why are you here?  And why-- _ach!_ \--easy there, salt princess!  Pyrope, why in the  _hell_ are you in Spiritual Ascension _too_?”

Terezi grins back, her bearing slightly more playful and amiable with the addition of Latula’s traits.   _“A little bird told me it might be a good idea.  Looks like Karkat’s finally decided to start sharing that delicious cherry-red blood of his!  Think I’ll go ask him for some.”_

Vriska rolls her eyes, and is pleased to find that she can do so now without excruciating pain.  “Ugh, gods, whatever.  Just so long as you don’t try and lick it off my face!”

 _“No promises, sis,”_ says Terezi, and with a sightless wink she’s gone, leaving Vriska flushed with a kind of pleased annoyance.

 _“Alright,”_ says Feferi a moment later,  _“That’s all!  Back to the fray for me, and you…”_

“I can still fight!” says Vriska, springing to her feet with her sword in one hand.  Feferi squints at her, then smirks, shrugs, and dashes off towards the fighting.  Vriska watches her go, trying to fight the rising feeling of annoyance at the look Feferi gave her and, gods, the  _shrug_.  Overall it just screamed “do what you like, but don’t blame me if you fuck it up”.

Well fuck  _that_.  Vriska Serket is not a fuckup and never has been!

Pushing Mindfang forcefully back in her consciousness, refusing to say the name tugging at her lips, Vriska stretches her newly-healed arm and sprints after Feferi.

The scene of the fight is somehow less chaotic than she expected it to be when watching from afar.  Vriska has been in brawls before, even ones where some of the combatants were willingly on her side, and they were mainly a mess of shouting and poorly-thrown blows and tangled wrestling.  This...this is different.  Everyone knows where everyone else is, and if not exactly what they’re doing then when they might be doing it.  They ebb and flow, one group of attackers rushing forward to deal out their own blows to the demon and then pulling back to let a fresh wave take it on.

Feferi does more damage with her trident than her magia, though whenever someone is injured she seems to be in just the right place, sparks of icy blue light flying between her and the person in question.  

Tavros circles above, riding the wind, sending great gusts and focused streams down to distance endangered fighters from their lightning-fast opponent, keeping the entirety of the battle in his field of vision.  Occasionally he’ll give an ear-splitting warning shout, augmented by wind, whenever Aradia launches a tree, psionically ripped from the earth, at the demon.  

Kanaya is relentless, her motorized saw moving neatly through the narrowest gaps between her fellow fighters, throwing off red sparks from the demon’s hide.  

Terezi is everywhere--a steadying hand here, a calculated trip there, shouting advice or admonishment with a broad white grin on her face.  

The only sign of Equius comes when a lull in the action gives him an opening to throw an invisible punch, making the demon stagger and spin at the power of the unseen blow.  But it gives as good as it gets, jolting from one place to the next in quick, jagged movements, blade flashing with a speed almost too extreme to follow.  It skewers Gamzee’s bicep, cuts a gash two inches deep across Terezi’s chest, and almost guts Nepeta as she dives forward with claws flashing.  

Her trajectory is interrupted by an unseen force--Equius, most likely--and Karkat rushes forward to distract the demon from its quarry.  His reach is inferior, a short, hooked sickle against the black sword, but he’s commendably quick and he manages a few vicious blows to the demon’s shoulders and torso before it swats his blade aside and raises its own for a killing blow.

Karkat raises his arms above him, bracing the sickle with his non-dominant hand.  Training has taught him never to close his eyes in the face of an enemy, but it’s a struggle as he stares up at the demon with watering eyes.

And then the razor-sharp black blade wavers and someone shouts his name.

_“Karkat, he can’t hurt you!  Cut him now!”_

_“Wh—“_   Karkat somersaults backwards and pops up to see Nepeta, her magenta-glowing eyes fixed firmly on the demon.

 _“He’s sharing your emotions?”_ he asks, glancing from her to the demon.   _“Then—“_

 _“He can’t hurt you any more than I can,”_ she says softly.  And then, loud and harsh again,  _“So attack him_ now _!”_

The Signless’s compassion sends a pang of sympathy through Karkat’s bloodpusher, but both of them know it has to be done.  As his sickle slices through jet-black carapace, he can feel the echo of Nepeta’s pain through their blood-bond and with the third cut the demon makes a high-pitched, grinding noise that could almost be a whimper.  Karkat grimaces…and falters.

And Nepeta’s magia connection breaks.  The demon’s eyes flash and it shakes its head as though shedding water, but before it can return to threatening Karkat a red-and-blue blast sends it flying.

 _“Finished,”_ says Sollux.   _“Good thing, too, look at you pissbabies.”_

Nepeta hauls herself to her feet, the short, coarse hair on the back of her head standing on end.   _“Say that again, I dare you!”_

 _“No time,”_ says Karkat, jerking his head towards the demon, now beset by Feferi and Terezi.   _“Help us!”_

In his mind he can feel the humans moving to their designated places, their presences as distinct as those of his own friends--Jade, fresh-grass-mint-cool, Dave, sand-sift-hot-wall, Rose, sweet-rain-dark-steel, John, bright-sky-bark-rough--and feels a pulse of relief that they’re responding just as well too.  It’s best for Jade to conserve her magia for what’s to come, rather than use it to carry her friends to their positions.

Now he and the rest of his team will just have to hold firm in the meantime.

And gods he hopes the meantime won’t be long, because some of them are already starting to flag.  Even Aradia, who isn’t in Spiritual Ascension, looks pale and strained as she forces one hand into the air to wrench a troll-sized boulder from the earth behind her.  Tavros’s air currents help to support the great stone, directing it straight at the demon, but he’s only had his magia back for less than an hour and the blue light in his eyes is flickering.

The boulder lands with a force that would crush any human or troll, but after a moment it cracks and falls away as the demon punches up through its weight sword-first.  It looks scuffed, its carapace less shiny, and now one of its blank white eyes has begun glitching, but for all that it still seems somehow to have the advantage.

Kanaya’s eyes flare silver and the pieces of the boulder seal together, catching the demon’s left foot in one of the cracks as it tries to fly up.  Kanaya smiles grimly, but she too is beginning to look worse for the wear, her eyes watering with jade tears as she dodges back to let Sollux take his shot.

 _You run out of magia energy in Spiritual Ascension, you die._ The lesson every young troll with powers has hammered into their skulls even before their bleeding.  Karkat tries not to think about how long he’s been connected with fifteen other people, about the tingling in his fingertips.  He watches Terezi duck and weave around the demon, always a step ahead of it, jamming her canesword into the cracks between its plates with immaculate precision.  

One particularly fierce stab passes up through what the humans would call its armpit, the blade sliding straight out through the demon’s shoulder.  Terezi crows victoriously but seems to realize a moment later that her blade is stuck.  She pulls fiercely at it, and for a moment the small part of Karkat that is still his own and not connected to the fighters around him thinks he’s going to see her impaled on that black sword and there’s nothing he can--

And then Vriska collides with Terezi head-on, bowling her out of the way, and the sudden violent torque applied to the canesword does... _something_ to the demon’s arm, which, like its eye, seems unable to decide whether it exists or not.

The demon is almost as confused as its pixelating limb, and in that moment Feferi, who’s apparently given up on trying to use her trident for stabbing purposes, slams the prongs broadside into the demon’s head, throwing it bodily to the ground.  

The Blood connection tells everyone to back away from the prone .ex file a moment before they understand why, and then a great stream of colored energy pounds down from the sky and looking up Karkat sees Eridan firing a non-stop blast of pure white energy from his rifle, supported by red and blue lights that have to belong to Sollux.  Sollux, who’s always been good at double-tasking, seems to be pushing every last ounce of psionic energy he has left from his wide-open eyes.  

The effect is dizzying, though it’s shocking enough to see Eridan using his elpimagia at such lengths, given how disinclined towards hopeful thinking he is at the best of times.  He must be making a truly impressive positive effort to be firing the ray so consistently.

It’s not long, however, before the demon starts to haul itself upright, pushing against the downward force of Eridan and Sollux’s attack like someone standing under the downpour of a waterfall.  Eridan is the first to fall back, panting, the muzzle of his gun pouring white smoke, and then Sollux practically falls out of the air, drops of mustard-yellow blood flying from his nose and mouth.

The demon raises its sword, making as if to charge, but before it can choose a target it’s blown backward again.  Equius fades into view as he falls on top of it, fists pounding its face and torso relentlessly.  Cracks begin to appear in the black shell, but his knuckles are also raw and blue within five punches, and he seems to realize the futility of the exercise because after a moment he stands, dragging the demon with him, one hand fixed around its throat.  It thrusts the sword at him but with a grunt Equius catches its hand, staying the weapon barely an inch from his torso.  He spins on the spot--once, twice, three times, faster and faster, and then with an almighty roar he heaves the demon into the air.

Before it can flap its wings more than once, Nepeta comes flying up from the ground with unnatural speed, landing squarely on the demon’s back and bringing her claws down with a brutal slash through its wings.  It flails, balance lost, then begins to spin like a maple seed as its left wing parts company with its body, dissolving into pixels.  Together with Nepeta, it crashes to the earth again and Karkat, about to run forward again with sickle at the ready, feels the sudden note of confirmation ring in his head from the four human presences.

_We’re here._

_“Oh thank_ fuck!” he shouts aloud, feeling the surge of his own relief echoed in everyone else’s minds.  The effect is bolstering, almost heady.  There’s only one more thing for all of them to do now, and then it’s down to the humans.

_“RETREAT!”_

Karkat begins backpedaling, not wanting to turn his back on the demon, and the other trolls move with him, moving back and back and back while the demon spins about, its remaining wing flapping uselessly, its injured arm glitching and twisting as it tries to choose a target.

 _Almost there, almost_ fucking  _there--_

Karkat’s bloodpusher seems to freeze as those blank white eyes lock onto him, and for a single moment he’s sure it’s about to come for him--and perhaps it would have, save for the blue-fletched arrow that sinks into its remaining good eye a second later.  And Karkat, relief filling him, throws caution to the winds to turn his back and run.

\--

John has often mused on what a convenient and wonderful thing it would be if he could speak psychically with his three best friends.  The connection Karkat’s magia provides isn’t quite like that, but it’s almost better somehow.  John feels somehow that his thoughts and emotions are rubbing shoulders with those of Dave, Jade, and Rose.  Close, familiar, but not immediately available to his own mind.  He knows where they are and what they’re doing in the same way that he knows these things about himself--comfortably and casually.

He also knows where the rest of the trolls are, though their minds feel less natural in conjunction with his own.  He knows when Karkat calls for a retreat, and when they all slip beyond the bounds of the rough code circle burned into the ground by Sollux’s eye blasts.

And he knows, like his friends, what they have to do now.  Dave and Jade’s magia are still almost completely drained, but it’s been made very clear what the solution to this is.

They’ll just have to end it before it becomes too much, in the only possible way.

He doesn’t so much ask whether they’re ready as feel for it, and their reassurance bounces back to him, bolstering his own determination.

And then, all at once, with sweet, perfect synchronicity...

“Dirk!”

_\--a switch flipped, gears meshing together--_

“Jane!”

_\--a perfect major chord played, laughter after a punchline--_

“Roxy!”

_\--the triumph of a puzzles solved, the security of a tight hug--_

“Jake!”

_\--the excitement of a well-told story, the visceral thrill of leaping from a high place--_

\--

There isn’t an explosion, exactly.  But the air tightens tangibly, making aural canals pop and teeth buzz.  There’s no wind; the air doesn’t physically move; but it seems that everything, the trees, the grass, even the sky, is drawn magnetically in towards the center of the coding circle, where the demon is trying again to move towards its prey.  

But now, as the air ripples and warps around it, the .ex file seems pressed back on all sides, almost compressed by its weight.  Through the watering eyes of the onlookers, it seems that a blank white gap has opened up beneath the demon’s feet…

\--

 _“Shit!”_ says Jade aloud, and then, because her headspace is currently one with Jake’s,  _“Boy fucking howdy!  What’s this?  Is anyone else getting sucked towards the center of the circle?”_ _  
_ They weren’t quite expecting an answer from the rest, and although the answer doesn’t come in words, there’s a sudden alien sense of denial mixed with curiosity.

On a hunch, Jade lifts one of their hands from the scorched symbols beneath them and feels for the white, pointed ears they’ve so recently become used to.

The hand meets momentary resistance, then passes through it, fingertips hot and buzzing, and as Jade quickly returns their attention to forcing more magia into the circle, the sense of something inside them being pulled out intensifies.  Jade drops low, bracing against the invisible force but feeling their body move inexorably over dirt and pebbles.

_“Whoa whoa whoa--”_

_Keep your hands on the lines,_ hands on the lines--!   _No use--_

Then, as their palms slide almost within the boundary of the circle, a realization occurs.

 _“Oh, right,”_ says Jade,  _“I’m magic now!”_

And as a green halo forms around them, drawing them easily back until their palms are once more positioned firmly on the lines of the circle, a white silhouette of shifting pixels slips suddenly from their body and flows through the air to join its dark twin.

_“Yes!!”_

_And all together,_

_one_

_last_

_PUSH_

\--

The tension in the air releases all at once, with a  _SNAP_ that’s inaudible but still seems to echo in the skull, leaving everyone in the immediate area dizzy and drunk on the magia-thick atmosphere.  Now that he’s able to take his eyes away from the circle, Karkat looks around to find that he’s standing next to Sollux, pleased to see that he’s still upright and out of Spiritual Ascension.

“You look...good,” Sollux mutters, eyes fixed on the empty space beyond the symbols he burned into the earth.  “Notice  _you’re_ not bleeding from the face.”

 _“I had a lot of magia to burn,”_ Karkat says, shrugging.   _“And Kankri was enjoying himself.”_

Sollux groans and sinks to the ground, glaring up at him.  “Oh, cut it the fuck out, you’re so  _reasonable_ like this.  I’ll burn your face off, see if I don’t.”

 _“Like you have_ enough psi left to do it,” says Karkat, and halfway through the sentence his snideness seems to cut through the warm understanding of the Signless and his hemomagia, leaving him aching and cold.

“Well, thank cods that’s over,” says a voice behind him, and Karkat turns to see Feferi, stowing away her trident and looking distinctly less robust than usual. There are shadows under her eyes and her smile is weak, but she summons enough energy to jog over to Sollux and pull him into a bone-crushing hug.

“FF-- _hkk!_ \--come on, don’t-- _okay no kissing gods I’m covered in blood--”_

Fefer withdraws, with yellow blood smeared on her lips but looking completely unabashed.  Sollux only manages to glare at her for a moment before slumping gratefully against her and mumbling into her shoulder,  _“Okay, now carry me home.”_

“With pleasure!” says Feferi, brightening.  “I’m shore I can get you over one shoulder and Eridan over the other.  Karcrab, are you okay?”

“Don’t-- _oof_ \--don’t talk to him,” says Sollux as she hoists him into her arms. “He’s  _disgustingly_ okay.”

“Damn straight,” Karkat snaps.  “And I wouldn’t take you up on the offer even if I couldn’t move my legs.  At least  _I_ have some fucking pride!  You go on ahead, I need to check on the rest of my dimwit team.”

“We’re not your  _team!_ ” Sollux calls, but his voice is already fading as Feferi moves away.  Karkat shakes his head and sends out a faint pulse of his remaining magia.  Before it fades, he feels the movement of the remaining trolls and humans, all miraculously alive and moving, making their way back towards Allernia.  He wishes bitterly that Jade still had enough magia left to take them home, but of course she’ll be completely burned out and it’s going to be a long, painful walk back.

Vriska passes him first, one of Terezi’s arms looped over her shoulder.  Karkat pretends not to see them, preferring not to get caught up in their needling banter.  Better to just let them get on with it.

Equius and Nepeta appear next, floating in a soft halo of psionic lights above Aradia’s head.  Equius looks disgruntled but too exhausted to complain, while Nepeta seems to be thoroughly enjoying herself.

“Good job, fearless leader!” says Aradia, waving cheerfully as she passes and jostling her passengers.  “Oh,  _sorry_ , Equius, forgot!  Is he okay, Nepeta?”

“Just grumpy as usual,” Nepeta calls back, sounding slightly less chirpy than normal.  “Hi, Karkat…”

“Nice, uh, teamwork,” says Karkat, who’s already secretly beginning to miss the blood connection.  It made talking to people so much  _easier_.  He stares ruefully after them as they move on, and then limps further into the woods, counting them off mentally:  _Sollux, Feferi, and they probably found Eridan...Vriska and Terezi…_

At least the last time he was able to check, no one is dead, he reassures himself.  But gods, wouldn’t it be horrible if, just after he’d finally told Gamzee about the Sufferer and decided not to hide his blood color anymore, the stupid clown just--

_Oh, fuck, no, don’t think about that, just keep looking._

He almost misses Kanaya, but three of the humans are already with her and they, despite having just survived Spiritual Ascension for the first time, are remarkably energetic and boisterous.  Karkat makes a bee-line through the trees towards them, sensing even as he does so that there’s someone behind him as well.  A moment later, a flailing arm catches him around the head as the fourth human dashes past him towards the group.

_“Sorry, Karkat!”_

And of course, it’s John.  Snarling, Karkat forces his legs into motion and gives chase, determined to finally give the shirtless windy asshole a reprimand face-to-face.  But by the time he catches up, he’s so out of breath that it’s all he can do to wheeze curse words and listen to the humans babbling about how “cool” it was and pelt Kanaya with questions about magia.

This goes on for quite a while, during which Karkat catches his breath and notices with a shock that completely drives all thoughts of vomiting rage into John’s ears out of his head that Kanaya is holding hands with the human named Rose.

“Well fuck,” he says, softly enough to practically be inaudible under the humans’ chatter.  But he sees one of Kanaya’s ears twitch and she turns slightly towards him with an uncertain kind of defiance.  Hurriedly, Karkat cracks what he hopes is a reassuring smile and nods.

After a moment, Kanaya smiles back and then says loudly, quieting her companions, “Will you come back with us?”

Karkat shakes his head, grimacing.  “I’ve gotta make sure everyone gets back.  Have you seen Gamzee?”

There’s a general chorus of  _“No”_ s from the group, and Karkat tries not to look too concerned.

“Well,” he says, “I felt everyone alive before my magia wore off so I’m sure he’s...fine.  Probably just lost somewhere, clueless dumbfuck.  Good...good job...guys.  Head back, find a doctorturer to take care of you.”

“And a  _doctorturer_ does  _what_ exactly?” asks Dave, folding his arms.  Karkat glares, thinking that over time he could really grow to hate those stupid obscuring glasses.

“They take care of injured and sick people, nookwhiff, what do you  _think_?”

“That I’d rather my sickness and injuries not be cared for by someone with the word ‘torturer’ in their name,” says Dave promptly, one corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“There are human doctors in the city too,” says Kanaya quickly, looking pointedly at Karkat.  “Not many, but I’ve heard they’re reliable.  Karkat, find Gamzee and come after us quickly, alright?”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Karkat mumbles, earning himself a gentle swat to the forehead.  “Ow!  What was that for?”

“Oh, it hardly hurt, you wiggler,” says Kanaya, though without much rancor.  Karkat notices for the first time the shadows under her eyes and the way she keeps swaying slightly, and bites his lip.

“...Right, maybe.  Go on, then.  I won’t take long.”

As their voices fade into the distance he tries furiously to remember in which direction Gamzee ran, where he last felt his moirail’s magia signature.  But the mass flight from the demon was too chaotic, too full of frantic movement, and later his magia hadn’t been strong enough to sense anyone’s exact positions.

_Come on, you dumbass...come on…be okay._

The sky has begun to darken and it’s getting harder to see anything through the trees.  For all that he isn’t bleeding from the nose and mouth, Karkat still feels utterly wrung out.  As night falls around him, he finds himself fighting to keep his eyes open.  More than once he almost trips over his own ankles.

And then, the final traces of pink on the horizon begin to fade, he really does trip over something on the ground and fall--in the dark, it’s impossible to tell what the offending object is but disregarding the fact that it’s probably a log or rock, more likely to hurt his foot than he is to hurt it, he kicks it awkwardly with both feet.

 _“Ow!”_ says the thing, and Karkat flips over, poleaxed, to stare at Gamzee’s prone figure.

“Well,” he says after a long moment, trying valiantly to keep his voice from cracking, “thank fuck.  I was beginning to think you’d just vanished into thin air.”

“‘s not too bad down here, brother,” Gamzee mumbles, managing a lopsided grin.  “What do say we stay out here all on the ground for the night?”

“We can’t, you enormous  _mess_ ,” Karkat groans, hauling himself up.  “We have to get back.  Come on, you can do it.  I’m not carrying you.  I’m  _not_.  Come on, my hive isn’t too far from the closest gate, you can bunk in my ‘coon for the night.   _Up_.”

\--

“Troll food!”

It’s noon the next day.  Jade has only just woken up, but upon turning her head the sight that first meets her eyes is one of strange, alien dishes.

Incidentally, to either side said dishes sit Kanaya and Rose, who have both turned to look at her.  Jade moves to sit up but immediately relaxes again with a groan.

“Ah…yes,” says Kanaya, half-apologetically.  “Once you’re able to get on your feet, I can help you to the ablution trap!  The hot water helps.  I was really quite surprised Rose could move at all--new magia users, only half a day after leaving Spiritual Ascension...by all rights you should’ve spent a day resting before you could walk!”

“You say that like it’s easy for us,” Rose retorts, grimacing.  “Even lifting a cup is a struggle.”

While they bicker gently, Jade tries again and manages to sit up, although every muscle in her torso protests.  After some experimental stretching and twisting, she dares to shift forward onto her feet.  Kanaya glances around just as she tries to stand up and gasps.

“Jade!  Jade, no, we’ll--oh dear.”

Having fallen over once, Jade allows herself to be raised and one arm hooked over Kanaya’s shoulders.  The short walk to the ablution trap takes more than five minutes, but eventually there’s a hiss of running water and Kanaya returns.  She glances at Rose but averts her eyes almost as quickly, seeming suddenly nervous to be alone with the human girl.

A long moment of silence passes, during which Rose sips strenuously at the troll beverage that might be tea and Kanaya fiddles with a nutrition scoop.

“So...” says Rose, eventually.

Kanaya looks up, seeming equal parts apprehensive and excited.  “Yes?”

“...John will be ready to leave again after a couple of days, maybe a few more if we decide to see the sights.  I’m sure we would return to Allernia eventually, especially given the possible applications of Jade’s new powers, but…”

“No, I understand,” says Kanaya, lowering her eyes again.  “You have to leave, and I can’t come with you.”

Rose frowns, concerned.  “Can’t you?”

“I--well--I thought--can I?” Kanaya stammers, looking dumbfounded.

“If you’d like,” says Rose, smiling.  “I would never force you to, of course--this is your home--but I...would like to spend more time with you.”

“Yes!”

Another pause.  Kanaya’s ears start to turn green while Rose seems both pleased and lost, momentarily, for words.

Eventually she says, gently, “...Are you sure?”

“I--yes.  Really.  I know it seems like a snap judgment, but I’ve been thinking for quite a while now that I could use some time away from this place.  And, well...some of the people in it.”

Rose nods stiffly.  “I should think s--”

Someone bangs on the door.  There’s no other word for it--it’s not a knock or a tap, it’s a series of great ringing  _bangs_ , and the instant the sound fades into echoes Kanaya groans, resting her forehead on her hands.

“What?  Do you know who it is?”

“One of the people I’ve been thinking of spending time away from,” mutters Kanaya, glancing at the door.  “Eight knocks...”

Rose’s face hardens slightly.  “Ah.  Do you want me to send her away?”

“No, no…” says Kanaya, a laugh creeping into her voice.  “In your state, I don’t think you could!  But I appreciate the offer.  No, I’ll hear what she has to say, and if she overstays her welcome, I’m perfectly capable of making her leave.   _Trust_ me.”

“Oh, I do!  And...I confess I’m now half-hoping you’ll need to.”

Kanaya smiles again, genuinely, and then stands and makes her way towards the door.

She’s barely cracked it open when Vriska pushes her way inside, looking determined and tense and already talking loudly as she surveys the block.

“Alright, I need Little Miss Human to leave--”

“No,” says Kanaya, and Vriska scowls.

“Maryam, come  _on_.  Okay, look, fine, then I can talk to you...outside.  But out of sight of anyone else, alright?”

“No.  In here, with Rose, or not at all.  She won’t interrupt.”

“It will be as though I’m  _not even here_ ,” Rose interjects sweetly, and meets Vriska’s glare with a level, icy look of her own.

“Oh...ugh, fuck,  _fine_.  Fine!  But I have something to say and don’t you  _dare_ fucking interrupt me because if you do I won’t finish.  Take my hand.  Come on, Maryam, just do it, before I change my mind.”

“How courteous,” says Rose coldly, but Kanaya sighs through her nose and puts a hand on Rose’s shoulder.

“...Just this once,” she says, in answer to the human girl’s questioning look.  “Because she would have died for us, no matter how little she cares to admit it.  Alright, Vriska.”

“Alright,” Vriska mutters, and as Kanaya’s hand rests lightly in hers, she turns to her right and, with her free hand, seems to push some invisible object down to waist height, hissing through her teeth all the while.  Then, a moment later, she bows down herself, her body almost parallel to the ground, her hand still holding Kanaya’s.  When she speaks, she seems to force out every word with great effort.

“I...am... _sorry_.  For the shit...that  _happened_ \--no, fuck, alright, keep your hand where it is!--the shit that I  _did_ , or that was...I guess... _my_...fault.  Now you too!”

For a moment it seems as though the demand is directed at Kanaya as well, and Rose opens her mouth to protest, but Vriska seems to be looking to her right where, it now seems apparent, her Wiser Self must have assumed the same posture as her.  There’s a long pause, during which Vriska’s shifting facial expressions hint at an unheard but very emphatic conversation, and then everything goes still.  The silence becomes more and more tense until, at last, Kanaya gasps softly and finally withdraws from Vriska’s grasp.  

Vriska lets her go this time, and straightens as well, her cheeks a soft cerulean.  She avoids Kanaya’s gaze and eventually, apparently unable to come up with something to say to restore her credentials as a stone-cold unapologetic badass, edges towards the door.

“Well, that was...certainly a thing that happened,” says Rose, restraining her usual tendency toward sarcasm for Kanaya’s sake.  “Perhaps you should also say goodbye now, both of you.  I was just telling Kanaya we won’t be staying long, and she told me she’d like to join us.”

“I want to go with you too,” says Vriska instantly, striding back towards the table.

“ _You_ want to come with  _us_ ,” says Rose sharply, narrowing her eyes.  “With us and...Kanaya.  Forgive me if I find the idea leaves a bad taste in my mouth.  Not that I would ever sincerely ask for your forgiveness for anything.”

Vriska looks affronted, though it’s difficult to tell whether she’s being sincere.  “Even when  _I_  already did?”

“I think it should be Kanaya’s call, then,” says Rose, coldly.  “Though even if she agrees, I’ll have my eye on you...Serket.  You should know I am never, ever going to like you.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” says Vriska, grinning darkly.  And then, seeming to remember something, she takes a couple of steps back and adds, “And I mean that platonically.”

“Thank the gods,” Rose mutters, then glances at Kanaya, unspeaking but expectant.

Vriska turns to look at her former moirail as well.  “Don’t feel like you have to, Fussyfangs.  I can take care of myself if I go adventuring alone.  But I’d like to spend some more time with my new dumbass friend John here, and he won’t leave his own dumbass friends, so...”

“You want to stay with John?” says a voice from the hall.  All eyes turn to Jade, who’s tucking in the corner of a towel over her breastbone and staring at Vriska with great curiosity.  “That’s...surprisingly adorable!  You don’t have a quadrant crush on him, do you?”

“J-Jade,” Kanaya manages, averting her eyes, “would you mind, uh, putting on some clothes?”

“Oh, sure!” says Jade, fumbling in the air for her sylladex.  “Just let me get some out of here…”

“In the other block!” Kanaya squeaks, while Rose stifles laughter and Vriska glares defiantly at the semi-naked newcomer.

As Jade retreats to another room, grinning, Vriska turns to Rose and says, almost casually, “So, is she...related to John?  In the mammal way?”

“They are cousins, if that’s what you mean,” says Rose, shrugging.

Vriska stares for a long moment and then says, “What in the fuck is a  _cousin_?”

“You can ask her while we’re on the road,” says Kanaya suddenly.  “Or John, if you prefer.  I think he could be better for you than I...ever was.”

Rose frowns but doesn’t protest, while Vriska folds her arms over her chest, glaring sullenly at Kanaya.  Finally she says, “Yeah, whatever.  Maybe.  You weren’t...completely terrible.”

“And you were?”

“That isn’t even anywhere  _close_ to what I said!  Shut up!  Fuck off!”

“I can’t fuck off,” says Kanaya, bemused.  “This is my hive.”

“Just--just  _can it_ , ugh!  Gods!”

“Ask Terezi whether she wants to come too,” Kanaya calls as Vriska storms towards the door.  “The more quadrants you have with you, the better!”

“I’m not liiiiiiiistening!!” shouts Vriska, and slams the door.

Smiling serenely, Kanaya settles down next to Rose again, glancing up to see Jade entering with a towel wrapped around her hair and, blessedly, proper clothes on the rest of her.

“Oh, good, you’re...clothed.  Um, is it customary for humans to go as scantly dressed as you and your...kazzin?”

“ _Cousin_ ,” says Jade cheerfully.  “And...well, it depends on the humans!  Not usually, though, no.  We’re just deviants!  But before you ask me more questions about that, I think you should talk to Rose.  She looks like she has something to say to you!”

Kanaya turns, curious, to find herself nose-to-nose with the other human, who is staring intently at her.

“...Yes?” she tries, the back of her neck prickling with heat and nerves.

“That was amazing,” says Rose very seriously.  “I think I may love you.”

Jade tucks into a troll breakfast while they kiss.

\--

A week later, with storage decks stuffed full of trollian souvenirs, three new gray and horned companions, and the promise of many magia lessons to come, the four human travelers face the South gate.

“I can’t believe you had to say goodbye to  _every single troll,_ John,” mutters Dave as a disgruntled guard pushes the door open.  “They only just finished hating us.  I don’t think some of them are  _done_.”

“Tavros will come around,” says John blithely.

“I really don’t think he will,” murmurs Kanaya as they pass through the gate.  Rose shrugs.

The late morning air is cool and dry, the sky a patchwork of clouds.  With the newest additions to the group,  silence feels strange--less companionable than usual--but there’s plenty to talk about.  They progress through a forest of tall, knotted trees with blue bark and delicate pink leaves, chatting in turns about anything that comes up.  The questions both humans and trolls have about each others’ cultures are enough to keep them going for an hour.

And then Jade wants to know what all of the trolls’ Wiser Self titles are, and this brings up the more pressing topic of what the humans should call their Wiser Selves.  As it turns out, after the final battle with the demon, each of them has given it thought.

“I mean, we had to!” says Jade, shrugging.  “It was a whole week and they were just...there, and we had to call them  _something_.  Dave’s is the best!  Dave, tell them what you came up with!”

“You said it didn’t have to be eight letters,” says Dave, nodding to Terezi, “but Di…my Wiser Self would prefer to stick to the format, and everyone else is anyway.  So I’m calling him the Mechanic.  We agreed on it after the fight.”

“You told them that?  It  _does_ have to be eight letters!” says Vriska, looking affronted.

Terezi grins.  “I may have just said that to piss you off.”

“Enough flirting!” John groans.  “You can’t turn Wiser Self talk into flirting, it’s not allowed!”

“Oh, are we sharing Wiser Self names?” asks Rose, looking over her shoulder at him and Dave.  “It would make things easier for everyone if we all used the new names from now on, I suppose.  The Diplomat says she wouldn’t mind being called the Diplomat…she says she certainly would like it if everyone got along, so it at least makes a little sense.”

“The Diplomat,” says Dave thoughtfully.  “Like the Drunken Diplomat?”

“Like any diplomat,” Rose replies smoothly.  “Much in the same way I assume your choice of title has some innocuous meaning, rather than referring to the nickname given by the people of your country to the  _Khuressa Khugai_  that devised Likha’s revolutionary new social structure.  No, I thought not.  John, Jade, I’m sure yours are excellent.”

“The Explorer!” says Jade immediately.  “He came up with it himself…I’m kind of envious!”

Terezi nods her approval and Rose smiles warmly, saying, “I like it.”

“What about you, John?” Dave asks, glancing at his friend.  “You said you hadn’t figured it out yet, right?”

“Hmmm,” says John absently.  “…Yeah, we haven’t decided on anything, and Ja—“

“No!” shout the other three, and John jolts into awareness, looking back at all of them.

“Oh.  Right!  No, though, we couldn’t figure anything out!  Although--wait, no, I came up with something last night and I was too tired to talk about it!”

Rose raises her eyebrows.  “Oh?”

“Well, hang on, I have to ask J—uh, I mean, I need to ask her first.  Wow, I can’t wait to have a good new name.  One second!”

Jane shifts into vision in the corner of his eye, looking slightly apprehensive.   _You know, maybe we should ask everyone else for ideas!  We’ve tried so many and, I don’t know, maybe—_

 _Come on, wait!_ John thinks, raising his hands in placation.   _I get where you’re coming from, but I have one more idea.  Will you at least think about it?_

She sighs and then smiles reluctantly at him.   _Well…alright, hit me with it!  Hoo hoo!_

_Alright.  How about…the Defender?_

To his surprise and slight embarrassment, Jane seems to flush.   _Do I seem like a Defender?_

 _You tell me!_ John answers, trying to suppress a shocked grin.   _Back when you were me and I was you or whatever, I just felt like all you wanted was for everyone to be safe.  And I kind of feel the same, so…_

Jane hesitates, her blush deepening, and then swallows and says,  _Alright!  But I think it’s still a lot to live up to._

 _That’s something a real Wiser Self would say, probably,_ John tells her cheerfully.   _Let’s make it official, then.  The Defender?_

 _The Defender,_ Jane agrees, and smiles at him.

“The Defender it is,” says John aloud.

“It’s a good name,” says Jade, nodding.  “Not as good as The Explorer, though!”

John mock-gasps and elbows her in the ribs.  “Oh, you did  _not_ just say that!”

“I did, though!  But--oh, Kanaya!  You never got around to telling me why you chose ‘The Dolorosa’ as a title.  That seems like a really unique and deliberate choice!”

“ _Well_ ,” Vriska begins, only to be cut off by a look from Terezi.

While the Scourge Sisters devolve into quiet arguing, Kanaya rolls her eyes almost fondly and begins, “Well, it had a lot to do with the role expected of me as a jadeblood.  You see, my caste...um...do you...hear something?”

As one, the group pauses to listen.  The other trolls are the first to nod, ears twitching, but soon enough the humans hear the yelling echoing through the trees behind them as well.

“That’s a lot of swearing,” Jade remarks, and then her face falls slightly.  “Oh, you don’t think it’s--”

“I do,” says Kanaya, looking half amused and half annoyed.  “Why couldn’t he just catch up with us like a normal person?”

Her question is answered when a troll suddenly rounds a distant bend in the track behind them.  It is, however, not Karkat.

It’s Gamzee.

He’s running in a kind of mad, unbalanced dash that should by all rights have sent him sprawling by now, but which he seems somehow perfectly capable of maintaining.  And behind him...

“Oh, he’s  _mad_!” says John, staring past Gamzee at his pursuer.

“It’s safer for you back in the city and  _I have to stay with you_!   _You get the FUCK back here!!_ ” shouts Karkat, approaching with a speed fueled by hellish rage.

“You all and wanted to go with ‘em, I did up and heard you say so!” Gamzee calls back, lanky legs still swinging like pendulums.  “I go up and along, and so does you!”

Karkat screams wordlessly and picks up his pace.

“Uh-oh, uh-oh!” calls John, laughing, “man, when his clown friend catches up so will Karkat!  We gotta  _go_!”

Dave looks up, alarmed.  “John?”

“ _No_ , John,” says Rose.

“What?   _What_?” says Vriska, scowling at being left out.

“There’s no stopping him,” Jade sighs.

“From  _what?_ ” asks Kanaya, who’s starting to look severely concerned.  

But before anyone can answer her, John jogs a couple steps in place, shouting, “Alright guys alright they’re almost here, let’s go go go!” and then dashes off like a shot, laughing wildly.

Vriska rolls her eyes “Oh, yeah, like we’re gonna--”

And then the rest of the group turns into a bunch of retreating backs and Vriska, glancing back to see what’s coming after, groans and races after the rest.

_“Egbert, you fucker, I’m going to murder you!”_

“Running will help you blow off steam, Karkat!” John shouts over his shoulder, his voice shaking with laughter and the pounding of his steps.  Then, with a great, echoing whoop, he leaps into the air and flies on ahead, headlong into whatever comes.


End file.
